


The Project

by TalkMarvelToMe



Series: The Project and The Supernova [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adoptive Parents Tony and Pepper, Bisexual Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Flirts, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton is a Man Child, Dance On The Table, Domestic Avengers, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Sassy Clint Barton, Sassy Tony Stark, Scheming, Science Bros, Smart Ass OFC, Steve Rogers Can't Dance, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tony Being Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 72,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalkMarvelToMe/pseuds/TalkMarvelToMe
Summary: “Who are you?”Jumping an impressive amount and still managing to stick the landing back in her white stool, Ro’s hissed out a colorful string of profanity in response to the formerly frozen man’s question. Shaking her head to clear away the adrenaline high, Ro reached for her phone to call Steve. Or Tony. Or Clint - he is the one with those tranq arrows after all. Or all of the above. Yes, definitely all of the above.“Wait,” the man’s demand was immediately followed by whispered sincerity as his head fell, “please. Please don’t call everyone back.”





	1. Becoming A Stark

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to be posting weekly updates - assuming I can get all of my ideas written that quickly!

“Ro, I can feel your impatience from this side of the room.” Pepper shot a sympathetic glance toward the 14 year old brunette she had taken in as her personal assistant. “Go on and help Tony.”

Biting her bottom lip in a failed attempt at concealing a smile, Rowan hesitantly responded, “I promised you I’d help finish organizing these documents, though.”

“Go.” Seeing right through the self-restraint, Pepper knew the girl better than she knew herself; thus, she didn’t have to tell Ro a third time before she was darting out of the room. 

Rowan’s dad was not only a colleague, but also one of a few genuine friends of yours truly, Tony Stark. Therefore, Tony became one of Rowan’s role models as a successful adult much to her mother’s disapproval. Can you blame mom, though? It is Tony. It wasn’t his carefree and party-minded lifestyle that Rowan admired about Tony, however. It was his inhuman drive to create and persevere, always on the edge of innovation, stretching the boundaries of reality all from the confines of his lab.

Ro’s mother had been greatly appreciative when Pepper offered her young teen an administrative job. She said something about “learning the dedication required for success from an independent, unprecedented, and well rounded woman like Pepper.” Sure, mom. However, Rowan was thankful for Pepper’s unspoken ulterior motives - allowing her plentiful time to spend in Tony’s lab. After all, her passion for mechanical engineering became quickly identified upon her first visit to the holy grail of labs when she was a mere tyke.

Walking into the lab with a ridiculous smile plastered on her face, Rowan breathed in the familiar comforting smell the welder emitted and didn’t even allow her ears to adjust to the blaring heavy metal before plopping right down into her dedicated stool. Up until age 11, she would always hijack Tony’s work stool when her father needed to consult with his business partner; however, as her skills improved, Rowan would often work beside Tony. Rather possessive of his work shop things (especially his stool evidently), the billionaire quickly noted and remedied the problem of her “borrowing” tendencies by making (of course he didn’t just _buy_ it, it’s Tony) a white stool solely for Ro. She soon became just as possessive over it as Tony is over his. 

“So, kid,” Tony began having swivelled toward the girl after commanding JARVIS to silence the music. “Have you applied to MIT, yet?”

“ _Dad._ ” Rowan managed to fit two, potentially three, syllables in her sarcastic utterance amidst an unnecessarily loud groan. Tony shot her a look of disapproval at her choice of title to which she simply smiled in achievement. “I’m just a freshman.”

“But, at the rate you’re going, you’ll graduate in three more semesters.”

“Have you been looking through my transcripts again?”

“I plead the fifth,” Tony flung his hands up with his palms forward in feigned defense before turning back to the holographic plans of his next great invention.

“You know the school probably doesn’t like it when people hack into their systems.”

“Eh,” Tony nonchalantly responded, “what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

***   ***   ***

Before Ro knew it, she received her acceptance letter from MIT and immediately drove to see Pepper and Tony to share the good news. That night, however, was not one of celebration as she had hoped. Tony was the one to deliver the news that her parents had died during a routine flight on their small plane. Rowan’s dad always loved flying. Given she was still a minor (barely), Tony and Pepper, without hesitation, adopted her as their own despite their vague and undefined relationship with each other. Rowan Stark.

The next few years flew by inexplicably quick. Rowan was often out of the country, trying to stay busy with every study abroad opportunity along with staying ahead of schedule on her already accelerated coursework. But, the international hiatuses came to an abrupt halt after she was unreachable throughout the entirety of Tony’s stint in Afghanistan and fallout with his business partner, Stane. Also, not to mention, Iron Man...happened which added another job title on Ro’s resume (Iron Man’s eyes in the sky/hacking expert/maintenance guy/troubleshooter/clean up crew). Then, Captain America was thawed out; that was a huge ordeal at Stark Tower. There may or may not have been phone calls demanding to run tests on the poor man. And his shield. Ro wanted the shield; I mean after all, the thing defies physics. And vibranium; oh, the vibranium, don’t even get her started. 

Then, one reindeer headed alien opened a portal (that Tony decided to take a stroll through with a nuke) and let in more aliens. In the end, Stark Tower (aka home) was destroyed. On the bright side, the Avengers became a thing and the world was saved.

***   ***   ***

But, back to a more intimate level, i.e. not the entire world. With thorough convincing and a few contingencies (which Tony made sure were recorded in a written and signed contract), Ro finally made her way back to MIT to complete her final semester for her doctorate. Tony’s contingency number one: Rowan must have an in-house bodyguard. Fury’s idea of killing two birds with one stone: Captain America is to become said bodyguard and Ro is to become the man-out-of-time’s teacher for all things 21st century.

Having all of her belongings finally delivered to her new three bedroom apartment (Rowan rolled her eyes at the size of the residence; but, it was in Tony’s infamous contract), Ro’s sigh of relief morphed into disbelief in a matter of oh-point-two seconds upon walking through the front door. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

None other than Captain-freaking-America was sitting on her couch. Reading a book. Like everything in life was normal. “What?”

“My dad is unbelievable,” Ro began, dumping her bag on the kitchen table and grabbing a beer for herself. “You don’t have to stay here and watch over me, seriously.”

“Well, he and Fury kind of sold my old apartment and moved all my stuff here…”

“Oh,” Ro reached back into the fridge and grabbed a beer for the poor fellow and made her way back to the living area. “Well, I’m definitely going to have a chat with those two.”

“You do know who Fury is, right?”

“Do you know who I am?” Ro flashed the super soldier a flawless smile as he hesitantly nodded. “Then, you know I don’t give a rat’s ass who Fury is. Uprooting someone like that, especially after all the shit you’ve gone through is messed up.”

“Uh,” Steve began, nervously spinning the bottle in his hands, “do you normally...talk like that?”

“Sorry, forgot you’re old school.” Ro swore she heard Steve let out a huff. “Only when I’m pissed off. Anyway, so...you live here for the next five months, also?”

“Yes. And I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible; but, it’s now my job to keep an eye on you.”

“So, you’ll really be following me around everywhere?”

“Yep,” Steve admitted. 

Well, this is going to be awkward. An entire semester being guarded by America’s golden boy because her dad has an utter lack of faith in humanity (I mean can you blame him? But she is an adult.) and some interesting pulls within the government. 

Fortunately, Rowan was far from right. Between Steve’s missions and DC meetings and Ro’s thesis completion and graduation, the two grew very close.

***   ***   ***

Lugging her feet dramatically through the front door, Ro groaned loudly as she saw Steve once again in his usual spot on the couch but this time with his sketchbook in hand.

“How’d it go?”

“You weren’t that sneaky.” Applying a sour tone, Ro plopped on the couch and shoved her heels off, “I know you followed me; thus, I know that you know how it went.”

“It’s my job.”

In her worst impression of Steve, Ro mocked back, “ _it’s my job._ ” 

Laughing at her impression, Steve set his sketchbook down and pulled the brunette into his lap despite her protest. “He was a jerk, don’t let it get to you.”

“I’m never dating again. Let’s just live single together forever.” Both laughed at the desperate offer. After further contemplation, Ro turned in his arms and furrowed her brows, “did you by chance have anything to do with the drink that the waitress spilled on him?” He was known for creativity.

“She got a nice tip for that.”

Smiling now, Ro continued, “or the fact that his car got booted for no apparent reason?”

“Local cops are a fan of the Captain and disagreed with your date’s actions.” Of course Steve would never straightforwardly admit to his shenanigans. 

“How about the bird that crapped on his shoulder?”

“Okay, that _wasn’t_ me.” Both laughed. 

“Thanks Stevie,” Ro leaned into his chest as she added, “and thanks for packing, too. You really didn’t have to do that. We have all of tomorrow.”

“Tony called. The tower is ready so he said we could have headed out earlier this afternoon; but, I didn’t want you to miss your date.”

“Well, now I wish I did miss it,” Rowan gloomily tacked on. 

“We leave at 0900 and our stuff will be right behind us.”

“Yes, sir.” Giving a half hearted salute, Ro chucked. “Good call leaving the TV unpacked though. I declare a movie night.”

“Alright,” Steve shifted Ro as he stood up and made his way to the kitchen, “I’ll get drinks and popcorn.”

Getting up, Rowan made her way to her bedroom. “And I’ll change. What a waste of a gorgeous dress.”

“When we get settled back in New York, we’ll have another friend date, give you an excuse to wear it again.”

Swinging back into the kitchen, Ro wrapped her arms around the super soldier’s waist and gave him a big hug. “And that’s why I love you.”

Letting out a light chuckle as he shook his head and returned the hug, Steve responded, “love you, too, Ro.”

“By chance did you pack those sweats of yours that I love?”

“Nope, sitting on your bed.”

“Ah,” Ro excitedly exclaimed as she bounced back toward her room, hollering from down the hall, “you’re the best.” 

“I won’t let you forget you said that!” Steve laughed as he heard her groan in response.

***   ***   ***

The next few years flew by even faster than the last which Rowan didn’t think would have been possible. She was now working directly with the Avengers, performing a variety of jobs from assisting with missions from home base, hacking into cameras and satellites, and designing weapons (only for the team - a contract was even fabricated, no more Stark family drama in the weapons business) all while she guest lectured at MIT and other international conferences.

Clint, Natasha, and Banner moved into the Avengers Tower. Clint was the Avengers Family’s inappropriate uncle that everyone maintained a love-hate relationship with; Ro leaned more toward the ‘love’ side typically. Natasha and Rowan quickly became two peas in a pod (yay for diluting the tower’s testosterone!) and would often be found sparring or scheming together. Banner was like another father figure, but also a superior colleague in a way; they often collaborated on conferences and research.  Pepper was often found off site as her relationship with Tony was kept on the down low after the Extremis incident. Sam, Thor, Sif, and Loki were frequent visitors. Life was great.

And then Sokovia went for a ride, otherwise known as shit hit the fan. Rowan was on comms during that battle and heard nearly her entire family prepare to sacrifice themselves for the people of that country. Then, shortly after, Triskelion happened, otherwise known as “Hydra’s been hiding in plain sight and is ready to kill everyone in 3, 2, 1.” Ro (unbeknownst to Hydra) found out she was under watch _by_ Hydra and was therefore unable to help Steve for the majority of the fight while the rest of the team was conveniently off planet at the time. Or, at least, that’s the kind of excuse she said everyone better have when Steve, Natasha, and newfound flier Sam had to fight alone. What disturbed Ro the most though when she finally got her comms up, with impeccable ( _not_ ) timing, to hear Steve, America’s golden boy, _once again_ preparing to lay down his life. But, this time it was just because he refused to fight his childhood pal.

Wonderful. How heroic, Steve. Words, colorful ones, were shared once his body and Ro’s heart were recovered from the Potomac. 

Then, Sokovia Accords. Yes, Rowan was on the comms during the airport battle, listening to both sides of the action. And, yes, she heard the Siberia fight where her (for all intents and purposes) dad and her (for all intents and purposes) brother nearly duked it out to the death. And the jerk that nearly cost Steve his life, multiple times, was there as well. You may know him as the Winter Soldier. And, it turns out, _said jerk_ also killed Tony’s parents. And now said jerk is frozen, much to Rowan’s pleasure. 

After helping Steve free the remainder of the Avengers from the Raft prison, against Tony, Fury, and the government’s orders, Rowan (by nothing shy of a miracle) smoothed over things between her dad and Steve. Prayers of gratitude were offered to any deity who would accept them. Including Thor. He refused, claiming to provide no aid.

That leaves us to today, in late 2018 when Rowan is busy preparing for a conference about her latest works and publication. And of course, Tony must interrupt.

***   ***   ***

“Hey, Ro.”

Slowly spinning around and muting the classical music reverberating throughout the lab, Rowan slowly cocked an eyebrow up as her dad walked over. His current formal demeanor was rather unusual. “Hi?”

“I need your help on a project,” Tony twisted his hands together, almost in a nervous manner. 

“Anything,” she replied as she took her glasses off, getting the impression this was a serious matter. “Did you bring it?”

“No, it’s, uh,” Tony was struggling finishing his sentence. Tony Stark. Speechless. Is this the apocalypse? “It’s clearance level 9. Top secret. So, you get a promotion. Then, we can discuss.” 

“Wait, woah,” Ro held up both her hands as if forcing Tony to pause his impromptu exit. “What’s going on?”

“It’s classified.”

“Don’t give me that; you’ve never cared when I’ve helped with things way above my clearance level in the past.”

Rowan never got her answer. At least not until two weeks later when the two instigators of their family’s civil war strut into her lab. Tony shut the music off before Ro could cease her singing resulting in a personal show for him and Steve. 

“Be happy I love you two otherwise I’d be throwing something at you _both_ right now.” It was her pet peeve when people muted her music while she was working.

“How do you even focus on that presentation of yours while singing?”

“Well, _dad,_ ” Ro sure had become an expert in a snarky inflection, “it’s called multitasking. Some of us actually have enough of our brain _still_ to do that.”

“Well some us like to have liquid enhanced fun by going out, drinking away life, and losing all inhibitions,” Tony sarcastically began, submitting to honesty, “unlike you.”

Steve’s resultant laugh closely resembled a snort prompting Rowan and Tony to shoot him looks begging him to explain. “Her?” The super soldier glanced toward Tony, “not drink? Do you know your daughter?”

“Nevermind, I do not want to know about her wild escapades while in college.”

“They were better than your sex-capades,” Rowan shot back which, surprisingly, made Steve laugh.

“Anyway!” Tony spoke loud enough as if his voice alone would garner the attention of an entire stadium. Then the serious expression came back. Oh, boy. “Remember the whole Winter Soldier/Bucky thing?”

Rowan removed her glasses, revealing the darkest you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look she could muster. “Um, vaguely,” she sarcastically began, “remember, I was the one that had to take everyone’s mission report about the...jerk.”

“Ro,” Steve, obviously offended, tried to reason. He failed. She didn’t care. The guy was still a jerk.

“He’s still under cryo,” Tony began with the same hesitation from two weeks ago. “But, some Wakandan enemies are getting uncomfortably close to his trail.”

“So, he needs to be moved,” Steve concluded. 

“Let me guess,” Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose and attempted to sigh out any spite. “You offered to store him _here_.” Both men nodded in response. 

The Winter Soldier. Rowan knew the man was formerly Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s partner in crime back in the 40’s; however, _that_ man is no longer. She read the files on the Soldier that were found upon numerous Hydra raids and Natasha’s SHIELD info dump onto public servers. Rowan found some highly disturbing information about the Winter Soldier and chose to consolidate, encrypt, then secure onto her personal tablet to make sure Tony and Steve wouldn’t ever see that horrifying information. To her knowledge, no one else had read _all_ the information and Rowan wanted to keep it that way. However, it made decisions like this difficult. She knew what he was capable of, she knew triggers only _Hydra_ was aware of, behavior conditioning they put him through, the processes of thawing and refreezing that others only theorized. Along with his missions, it was all _horrifying._ And Tony and Steve want to bring that nightmare home.

To say the least, Rowan was shocked that Tony offered; but, ultimately, her two men were at peace and in agreement on something. _Finally._ She couldn’t say no. Of course, it didn’t really sound like they were asking for permission to begin with so, here goes nothing.

“Okay, and what exactly is _my_ involvement going to consist of?”

Tony, with more excitement than Rowan thought was warranted, snagged his black stool from the opposite side of the room and placed it in front of the brunette as she replaced her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “FRIDAY, pull up the first file in my classifieds folder.”

“I apologize, sir; but, this is boss’s allotted time in the lab. I need her clearance to continue.”

Turning to look at his daughter, Tony was struck dumb, “you did not.”

With a smug look, Rowan nodded in affirmation. “FRIDAY, you may proceed.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Also, why are you ‘boss’ now?”

“It’s my allotted lab time,” Ro snarkily responded as a holographic image arose on the table in front of the two Starks with Steve attempting to decipher behind. 

“This,” Tony began, pausing to enlarge a few blueprint type images, “was his arm before _hand-_ ”

“No pun intended,” Ro mumbled much to Steve’s disapproval. She swore she saw the corner of Tony’s lips curl up. 

“Since I destroyed it, the least I can do is make him a new one.”

Well, shit. Rowan thought she was conflicted before; oh, no. Now, she is. This was probably the most exhilarating project she could dream of. Aside from creating an entire synthetic human body; but, been there, done that. Started a war. That topic is now shelved on the shall-never-be-spoken-of-again list. Moving on. A cybernetic limb that matches the capabilities of a super soldier. This is the dream of every engineer in her field. If only it’s owner could be someone else. _Anyone_ else. Except Thanos. But, nevermind about that. 

“You mean, _we_ make him a new one.”

“I assumed you’d be thrilled about this, Ro,” Tony uttered in confusion. 

“I’m mixed. I-” hesitating, Ro saw Steve’s expression, deploying his puppy dog eyes to which she nearly always caved. “I want to help; but, I have this presentation in a month and a half. It’s a huge opportunity, internationally acclaimed, I can’t miss it.”

“That’s okay, we’ll do this together.”

As much as she wanted to believe her dad, Rowan knew most of these ‘together’ projects typically wound up being primarily her’s. And now they’re both doing the puppy dog eyes. Tony could use some pointers from Steve. 

“Okay,” Rowan laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “I guess it’s preferred he has it when he wakes up?” Steve shrugged his shoulders and nodded in an indecisive affirmation. “So, when are we waking him up?”

“Uh,” Tony offered as if calculating mentally, “we’re limited to a week after he arrives due to the pod’s incompatibility with our generators.”

“ _Incompatibility?_ We can’t just _make_ something?”

Tony shook his head in response to Ro’s question, “we don’t have that much time.”

Ro’s expression became stern. “When is his pod arriving?”

Tony looked at Steve, evidently throwing the super soldier under the bus, forcing him to answer. “He’s on his way. He’ll arrive in 6 hours.”

Rowan took a deep, _loud_ breath, hoping to keep her temperament under control. In exaggerated calmness, she started, “and where might his pod be staying?”

Tony pointed to the opposite side of the lab. It took every ounce of Rowan’s self control not to explode. She clasped her hands together as if praying and forced them to her lips, holding heated words at bay. 

Yes, her lab was huge. Yes, it could easily accommodate the tech necessary for the cryopreservation tube. But, it was her lab! _Hers._ And Tony’s; but, still. The lab was situated in the top of the tower, the 55th floor with floor to ceiling glass windows wrapping the curved walls omitting only the foyer and elevators. There were numerous, around 20, lab tables with many projects at various stages of completion scattered throughout. Rowan loved the privacy the lab provided given the windows were one-way, you could only see out, and not much was above her floor (a greenhouse, the covered pool under the rollaway landing platform, and various aircraft only half of which the government knew about). 

In her same faux-calm tone, Ro continued, “and why not in the basement where it’s safer...for everyone?”

“Ro.” And there golden boy goes again with the pouty eyes. “We are not putting him in the basement. Also, from a safety aspect, that is where it would make most sense to keep him, so that’s where any enemy would look first. The basement is also the easiest to prevent someone from escaping. So, given someone looks for him down there, FRIDAY will lock them in.”

Why did sir pouts-a-lot have to make a good point? 

“It’s just going to be very difficult trying to work on making an arm while popsicle two-point-oh is staring at me.”

“He’s not going to be staring, his eyes will be closed,” Tony’s weak argument began. “Wait,” suddenly he turned to Cap, “his eyes are closed right? Because, if not, that’d-”

“Yes, his eyes are closed.” Steve pressed his pointer fingers against his temples in utter disbelief that Ro and Tony just asked that question. They’re Starks, though; he shouldn’t expect much more. 

“Sir, you have been requested by Dr. Banner in Lab 51.”

“On my way,” Tony exited, glad to be exchanging one lab for another given the current conversation. 

“Ro, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you about this sooner. I wanted to, believe me. Tony and I - and now you - are just the only ones with the appropriate clearance here so we-”

“Wait, you’re not saying we have to keep this from everyone else here?”

“Oh, no,” Steve readily clarified. “Transportation is the riskiest part; _that_ we had to keep from everyone. Once he’s here, we’ll let the team know.”

“Okay,” Rowan nodded in affirmation while letting out a deep breath. “Steve, I’m only doing this for you. At first, I thought this was the _worst_ idea. But, I know you would have thoroughly exhausted every idea out there and only gone with the most reliable and feasible one. I trust you.” Making her way to Steve, Ro wrapped her arms around his core to which he readily returned the hug. 

“I appreciate it, Ro.”

“Things are about to get very different, though.”

“I know,” Steve somberly spoke. “I’m just glad we’ll have him back.”

“Just don’t let your guard down,” Ro pulled back so she could make eye contact. “Please.”

“Okay.” Steve offered his perfect smile to which she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Let’s go get some dinner, it’s going to be a long night.”

“Let me just save my progress real quick,” Ro released the soldier and made her way to the computer as Steve immediately began protesting. 

“Oh, no you don’t, lady.” Steve wrapped his arms around Rowan’s waist before she could reach her keyboard. “You say ‘just save’ but you always end up working for another few hours.”

“I mean it this time,” she was laughing by now, still trying to reach the buttons. 

“Tell me what to press, I’ll save it.” Steve picked Rowan up and placed her behind him so he could have uninhibited access to the computer. 

“Steven Grant, you do _not_ touch my computer!” Her futile attempts at stopping the super soldier were rather comical. Even shoving the entirety of her body weight failed to move the man one inch. Wrapping her arm under his, she managed to snag a quick ctrl-S before Steve’s problematic button pressing began. “Okay, it’s saved, now close the window.”

Steve hunched over the computer and slowly began toggling the mouse around prompting Ro to let out an exaggerated sigh, “you still don’t know how to work my laptop? You are ridiculous. Your frozen buddy better be nothing shy of a tech genius. I’m only dealing with one of you.”

Laughing, Steve finally closed the browsers and opened documents. “I was messing with you, I know how to work a computer. I had the best teacher,” flashing a wink toward Ro, Steve slung an arm over her shoulders. 

“Uh huh,” Ro began, emphasizing the fact she didn’t believe him. “Flattery will only get you so far, Rogers.”

“You think I’m laying on the flattery now, wait until Bucky’s here.”

“He flirts with me and I’ll punch him.” Ro’s face maintained a serious façade as Steve’s jovial expression faltered, yielding to one of disapproval. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

In complete mockery, Rowan adopted her Steve-tone while dramatically flailing her arms as they stepped onto the elevator, “ _don’t even think about it._ ”

“That’s it,” Steve pulled Ro’s head against his chest and ruthlessly ruffled her hair despite the brunette’s protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big dreams for this fic! What are the thoughts so far, guys?


	2. "Who are you?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Ro delivers an impressive level of sass, Steve realizes the youngest Stark doesn't provide the best welcome party, and...a man hug.

Describing this work day as awkward would be understatement of the year. Not only was there a frozen specimen facing Rowan’s work station (I mean could they have at least turned him around, facing out the far window?), but there was an additional body...staring at the man in the freezer. Steve. 

“You do realize watching grass grow would be more productive, right?”

Steve smiled back towards Ro as he made his way over to the hologram of an arm. “Think you’ll be able to finish it in one week?”

“A basic version, yes. No bells and whistles, not combat friendly, the alloy I’m using isn’t preferred; but, when he wakes up, he will at least have an arm.” Rowan shrugged her shoulders, less than pleased with the prototype she knows they must settle for. “But, I am actually looking forward to working on Mark II.”

“You’re making two?”

“Yes. The second will be made of vibranium that T’Challa is oh-so-generously gifting,” Rowan offered a smug smile as she concluded her statement. “It’ll have all the bells and whistles; but, it’ll take a few months to make hence we’ll have to settle for the basic version.”

The rest of the week consisted of Rowan working hastily on the arm, including making the metal plates and welding them together at strategically placed hinges. The elbow was rather tricky with the articulating plates; but, using the data from the Hydra built arm, she managed. What was very frustrating was trying to find a way to connect the left over metal comprising his shoulder with the new prosthesis. Rowan told Steve removing the old metal would require surgery. Steve said no. Challenge accepted, Steve. 

Every time Rowan would get frustrated with the prosthesis, she would take it out on the frozen man. One time Steve walked in mid yelling session and the expression on his face made Rowan feel like she just abused a small puppy. She felt horrible. Cap’s Rule No. 24: no more yelling at Frozone. Bummer. 

A few nights, Rowan actually fell asleep in her lab after pulling a few all nighters working on both her presentation and the arm. The first time, Steve just carried her to bed which had become a rather common occurrence when she would become obsessed with a project. The second time, Ro startled awake upon hearing Tony messing with the semi-constructed arm on the metal table. 

“If you break that one, too, I will reprogram FRIDAY to ban you from my lab...” Realizing her threat fell on deaf ears, Ro added, “and from your liquor cabinet.”

After flashing a disapproving look, Tony prodded the inside of the limb one last time and concluded, “you’re missing some electrical components.”

“I want to get a close look at his shoulder first and see what all is singed versus salvageable. I’m hoping that most of it is decent given I’d rather not redo the wiring in the entire shoulder - too much close contact with Sarge over there for my liking.”

“He has a new nickname, I see,” Tony ticked an eyebrow up, proud of his not-so-impressive observation. 

“Steve kept fussing when I called him jerk or Winter Soldier or any other creative option that I think you’d actually be rather impressed with,” the smug smile that Ro flashed her dad was immediately returned with a genuine laugh. The same laugh that always made Ro smile sheerly due to it’s rarity. 

“Before we wake him tomorrow, we can get a look,” Tony put a reassuring hand on Ro’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Until then, get some sleep. You look like me.”

“Oh no,” Rowan began dramatically complaining as she made her way to the elevator as Tony followed, laughing.

***   ***   ***

“Hey, you still live here,” Natasha sarcastically began to Ro. Gosh, that redhead was such a morning person; it should be a crime. “That’s nice to know. Where’ve you been the past week?”

“My lab,” Ro responded, laying her forehead on her folded arms on the kitchen island. 

“Working on anything especially exciting?”

Pulling her phone out of the pocket of her pajama pants, Ro tapped on the screen a few times until the blueprints of the current model of the arm was displayed. Natasha analyzed the screen then raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. 

“I thought you hated the guy?”

“I do.”

“Ro, seriously?” Steve’s impeccable timing has struck again. Thank you, universe. Again.

“I like the science and tech involved; I do not like the who my tech will be attached to. That was never in our agreement, Steve. I don’t have to like the guy.” Steve rolled his eyes toward the half asleep brunette who just flashed a smile in return. 

“So, Cap,” Ro perked up at Natasha’s inflection, knowing that tone was only reserved for the best schemes. “How are you and that former SHIELD agent? What’s her name again?”

“Oh,” Ro tossed her hands over her face and mumbled out the answer before Steve could respond, “Sharon.”

“Yeah, how are you two?” Nat flashed a suggestive smile to the super soldier who uttered out a spectacular oration of incoherent syllables before being recovered by Ro. 

“I literally was flirting with her using Steve’s phone and she was giving nothing but positive responses back,” Ro raised her eyebrows toward Steve who was now the color of a ripened tomato. 

“She was just being polite since I’m her superior.”

“ _Polite because I’m her superior,_ ” Ro mocked in her Steve-tone. “Don’t give me that shit.” Before Captain could chastise Ro for her profane language, Ro held a finger up to elaborate. “Responding with _‘yes, captain’_ would be considered being polite to a superior. What she said,” Ro cleared her throat before donning a heightened pitch, “ _‘oh, Steve, that’s so sweet of you’_ is Sharon saying she likes you.”

“She doesn’t sound like that-”

Cutting Steve’s defense off, Natasha offered, “am I going to have to plan this date for you?” 

“No,” Ro groaned as she took the coffee the red head so graciously prepared for her. “At the rate oh-ancient-one is going, I’ll have to end up going on the date for him. And that sure as hell isn’t happening, I don’t swing that way,” Ro took an obnoxiously loud sip of coffee before glancing toward the super soldier, “not even for you Steve-o.”

Rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time this conversation, Steve was internally thankful when the billionaire entered the communal kitchen.

“Hey, kid, go get dressed. Time to wake the sleeping giant.”

“Coffee first,” Ro replied as she raised the mug to down the remaining half in one gulp. “And don’t expect me to dress up,” she tacked on, making her way out of the community kitchen.

“She looks like she’s been spending too much time in the lab again,” Nat observed. 

“Two all nighters this week,” Tony shook his head, knowing he was hypocritical for judging her workaholic actions. “Found her asleep up there late last night.”

“Sounds like a Stark,” Natasha commented as Steve shook his head, knowing how Ro can get herself so involved in projects she can easily forget about the basic necessities in life like food and sleep. Minor details.

“Alright, I’m ready.” Ro, having quickly changed into black leggings and one of Steve’s t-shirts she hijacked, made her way back to the common area and pressed the elevator button. 

She was quickly flanked by Tony, in a full suit and tie, (because, it’s Tony) and Steve, in khakis and a button down. Really, Steve? Khakis? Neither man seemed to remotely approve of her choice in attire; but, there wasn’t a dress code in this contract after all.

As the trio arrived in Ro’s lab, they were met with a whole onslaught of people: two in lab coats, two techs assisting the white coats, Nat, Bruce, and two armed guards. Rowan was surprised to see the opened cryo pod and the thawing process appearing nearing completion. Between the absence of the ice crystals from Bucky’s hair and the new flush of his skin, the man before Ro appeared to be in a simple slumber.

“How long until he wakes?” Ro immediately snagged a few tools as she made her way toward the opened pod, hoping to analyze the electrical remnants before the fun starts.

“Any minute,” one of the white coats spoke.

“Ohh, well then,” Ro immediately spun on her heel and retreated to Steve, abandoning all attempts at checking the prosthetic leftovers at the given moment.

“There’re too many people here, Tony,” Steve sternly spoke. Tony anxiously nodded to Steve as if he agreed but wasn’t willing to risk decreasing security. 

Watching the nervous exchange between the two men made Ro’s nearly empty stomach do a somersault. However, before she could dwell on her own concerns or the two men could debate further on the current attendees, an uptick in the beeping of the heart monitor silenced the room. Prompted by subtle fluttering of Bucky’s eyes, Steve, Natasha, and Tony all stepped forward with Steve leading the triangulated lineup. At Steve’s discreet hand wave, the white coats and techs gladly stepped behind the reclined pod where they could keep an eye on various monitors while avoiding any potential harm’s way. 

“No,” the first syllable to fall past Bucky’s lips was barely audible due to an excessively dry mouth. “No, not again,” Bucky became more agitated as he tugged at various restraints as his multi-lingual rambling seemed to alternate languages with every passing syllable.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice was responded by a growl from Bucky as he freed himself entirely of his restraints and stumbled from the pod almost as if he forgot about his missing left limb, taking a knee and looking around. The click indicating the release of the safety of the security guard’s gun evidently flicked a trigger within Bucky as all emotion vacated from his face and he began stalking toward the guard.

“Buck, stop.”

In response to Steve’s voice, Bucky turned to face the tall blond speaker and paused in utter confusion. Time seemed to still as Ro’s heart rate increased rapidly as the rapid succession of events unfolded. Bucky glanced toward the two guards, both with slightly elevated weapons, then back toward Steve as he slowly assumed a fighting stance amidst evident confusion. Ro’s fear was seconds away from playing out in front of her. This is exactly what her nightmares were made of, exactly what she heard too many times of missions through the comms. Steve and Bucky, the two childhood friends, duking it out.

Ending the stalemate, Bucky made one offensive step toward Steve but was immediately thrown into a sense of shock when Ro ran in front of Steve and yelled at the recently thawed man, “stop!” 

Having temporarily ceased his offensive attack, Bucky glanced between the blond man who triggered a whole variety of memories, some good and some bad, and the brunette woman who maintained a stern expression, looking remarkably out of place and overall pissed off. This piqued Bucky’s confusion.

“Ro,” Tony’s expression was a desperate demand as he refused to make a move out of fear of triggering the soldier that stood closer to his adopted daughter than he did. Rowan didn’t make any attempt at backing down despite her systemic fear; she refused to let Bucky hurt Steve again.

In one swift movement, the brunette man before Ro lunged her way just as an arrow zipped through the room as if having been fabricated out of thin air. In the space between two of Ro’s breaths, the small arrow nicked Bucky’s shoulder and the man fell into a heap on the floor. In another series of seemingly choreographed movements, Steve and the white coats bolted toward Bucky’s body as Tony and Nat darted toward Ro who, along with Bruce, looked around to locate the source of the arrow.

“Just a tranquilizer,” Clint reassured the room as he dropped from his precarious position, hanging upside down from one of the air ducts. 

“Ro, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m not letting that monster hurt Steve again,” Ro curtly jabbed back toward Tony through clenched teeth. Shoving past her father, she collected a few of her tools and made her way to the unconscious man’s body now placed back in the open cryo pod. “Just let me do my job.”

“You are _no_ match for him,” Tony just about yelled, pointing toward Bucky. “When he’s in _that_ mode, he would have no hesitation snapping your neck!” 

“At least it’d slow him down!” Ro realized her shout of a retort was utterly irrational; but, since when is anything involving family rational?

“Tony.” Rowan was glad that Steve had decided to speak up, to cease further nonproductive bickering. “The docs say he’ll be out for about one hour with the dosage in Clint’s arrow. Let her work.” Turning toward the horde of people still filling the lab, Steve donned his diplomatic Captain-ly demeanor. “Next time he wakes, we’ll only have one doctor, myself, and Rowan present.” Despite the group’s evident reservations to the visitation restriction, there were communal nods of affirmation amidst a slew of ‘yes, cap’.

Ro took a few deep breaths, trying to force her frustrations to subside and allow herself to get lost in her work for the next hour. After all, that is what she does best, run away from life’s troubles into the welcoming arms of her projects, the current project being hastily repairing the singed wiring and replacing the unsalvageable electrical work of Bucky’s shoulder. Realizing Ro skipped the most important meal of the day, Steve left for a breakfast run while the doctor who would remain present elected to take a break until his patient was due to wake. Glancing at the timer on her watch, Ro nodded her head in self-reassurance before being consumed by the organized chaos of wiring. T minus 27 minutes. 

“ _‘These are much stronger,’_ they say,” Ro mumbled to herself as she scrunched her nose, mocking the naivety of the doctors and techs. “ _‘Surely they’ll restrain him this time,’_ they say.” Rightfully so, Ro didn’t have the same faith in the new restraints as the fellow white coats; Bucky could definitively break through, missing limb or not.

“Who are you?”

Jumping an impressive amount and still managing to stick the landing back in her white stool, Ro’s hissed out a colorful string of profanity in response to the formerly frozen man’s question. Shaking her head to clear away the adrenaline high, Ro reached for her phone to call Steve. Or Tony. Or Clint - he is the one with those tranq arrows after all. Or all of the above. Yes, definitely all of the above. 

“Wait,” the man’s demand was immediately followed by whispered sincerity as his head fell, “please. Please don’t call everyone back.” He mumbled something else that Ro barely caught, something along the lines of, “it was just too much.”

Glancing between her phone and Steve’s childhood friend before her, Ro hesitated. There was no way she would work as he remained idle in the background; however, Steve _did_ accurately predict that the volume of attendees would be a negative trigger. “I’ll just call Steve.”

As Bucky’s head snapped up, Ro recognized a hopeful expression as he nodded in affirmation. She also noted that his eyes never left her during the entirety of the phone call. Probably thinking she was lying about who she was calling. 

“Hey, Stevie.” Ro saw Bucky’s expression, a slight curve of his lips, upon her use of Steve’s nickname. “He’s up; but, don’t tell anyone. Just...get up here. _Quickly._ ” Bucky involuntarily gave a satisfied look upon hearing the anonymous woman before him actually abiding by her promises, as little as they may be. Ro let out a hefty sigh accompanied by an impressive eye roll, desperately was hoping she wasn’t walking into a trap with this decision.

“Yeah, I’m still starving...hang on,” Ro shifted the phone away from her ear and looked directly toward Bucky, asking with a hefty tinge of annoyance, “Steve wants to know if you’re hungry?” His affirmative nod was translated to Steve as the call concluded. “Okay, thanks...love you, too.” Ro wasn’t sure what to make of the surprised expression Bucky currently held upon hearing her goodbye.

“Who are you?” Fortunately, the repeated question was less demanding this time. 

“I’m just here for the arm,” Ro offered as she tapped her silver tool against the prosthetic situated to her right before tinkering with some wires she planned to bridge the old and new electrical work.

“How long have I been under?”

“Nearly two years.” As she continued working, Ro nonchalantly elaborated as if she was simply updating someone what was on the dinner menu. “Some bad guys figured out you were on cryo in Wakanda; so, T’Challa called us and Steve put you on a red eye to New York a week ago and asked…” Ro paused to clarify twirling her current tool in the air, “ _told_ me to make you a new arm.”

Bucky let out a heavy sigh as if thinking he was a burden to which Ro just rolled her eyes. Again. She was not going to start feeling sorry for this guy. Nope. Not now. Nuh uh. She almost missed what Bucky said due to the unnatural softness of his voice. 

“Sorry for trying to attack you.” Ro just shrugged prompting him to inquire, “what’s your gimmick?”

“My _gimmick_?”

“Your thing,” Bucky shook his head as if unsure how to adequately describe some of the oddities he’s seen. “Or your... _power._ ”

“Oh, nothing,” Ro responded seemingly uninterested in the conversation as she still worked on her true task at hand. “I’m just a mechanical engineer.”

“Then, why did you step in front of Steve?”

Rowan let out a sigh of annoyance as she turned to face Bucky straight on and allowed her pent up frustrations to flow with her response. “Honestly, I’m sick and tired of seeing you beating the shit out of Steve and not being able to do anything about it,” Ro let out an exasperated laugh as she mumbled under her breath, “and lord knows his stubborn ass won’t fight you back.”

“Language.” Ro shot Steve an unimpressed look as the super soldier once again graced her presence with impeccable timing. Steve waited for the brunette’s sass to depart before passing her a breakfast burrito which warranted a soft smile from Ro. 

Walking toward the pod, Steve spoke softly to his childhood friend, “back to yourself, Buck?”

“Oh believe me,” Rowan began, mumbling through a full bite, “if he wasn’t, that last phone call would have been a lot more colorful and a-” Ro reluctantly stopped as she spun around enough to see Steve’s look of disapproval. 

“As sassafras said, I’m back,” Buck confirmed with a smirk. Ro stood dumbfounded as Steve ignored the jab and began releasing the not-so-restraining restraints.

“If you think you’re ready, Buck, I’ll call the doc back in.” Upon receiving Bucky’s affirmative nod, Steve retrieved to surprised doctor who completed a physical while Ro polished of the final electrical workings. 

“So, I was thinking that we’re about due for a party,” Tony proclaimed as he made his way into the lab, so consumed in his technological device that he initially didn’t even realize the nearly completed physical exam in front of him. “You know, call everyone we know, break out the best scotch and-” And that is the precise moment Tony Stark realized he was not included in the who-to-call-when-popsicle-wakes list.

“What is this?” Tony pointed to the doctor and Bucky as he accusingly spat toward Ro and Steve hovering over the completed prosthetic. “Why was I not called immediately when Frosty woke up? I live here. I own this place. Hell, I’m the one that made his travelling arrangements so the least all you people could have done was shoot me a ring.” The billionaire continued his rant as everyone just sat there in silence, waiting for the perpetual fussing to cease. 

“You, young lady,” Tony pointed toward Rowan who raised an eyebrow in response, “why wasn’t I the first person on your call list. Maybe _only_ after security or some-”

Cutting Tony’s rambling off, Ro waved her hand up and down her dad’s form, “ _this_ is why I didn’t call you initially. Done with your charade?”

Before Tony could respond, the doctor spoke up, “actually, Mr. Stark, your timing was perfect.” The white coat stood and gestured to the remnants of the prosthetic shoulder, “you’re up.”

“Actually,” Tony snarkily began as Ro braced for the next round of sass, “she’s more qualified.” The billionaire smiled toward Rowan who was trying to conceal her utter shock, plastering a feigned facade of confidence. 

“Sit,” Ro gestured toward a semi reclined chair, similar to a plush dentist’s chair, as she collected a voltmeter and a few metallic probe like utensils. Bucky shot Steve a look that adequately expressed his shock towards Ro’s blatant control. After a few non-verbal communicative seconds between childhood friends (mostly Bucky shaking his head in negation while Steve ushered the unwilling participant to the seat), Rowan was perched on her white stool to the man’s left.

Bucky immediately jumped when Ro hooked up the voltmeter, letting out an anger driven grunt as he grasped her wrist firmly with his flesh right hand. Shooting her eyebrows toward her hairline in disapproval of the soldier’s actions, Ro held her free arm up to stop Steve and Tony’s advances to mediate the unsuspecting altercation. 

“You don’t give me my arm back and you don’t get yours,” Ro cockily reasoned, flashing a sarcastic smile as she concluded, “up to you.” 

There was no way Rowan was going to let the man know how much his abrupt action scared the ever living shit out of her. Nope. So, Ro was going to _ignore_ the fact that his hand was over her radial artery and his observation skills were probably at peak performance given his job title thus he probably was well aware her heart rate being sky high. Yep, we’ll go with that.

With a quick release of her frail wrist, Bucky uttered a barely audible “sorry” before attempting to stifle a smirk.

“Fortunately for you, the old electrical machinery is still functional,” Ro concluded as she moved the voltmeter and instruments to the side as she gestured toward the prosthetic before adding in feigned helplessness, “Stevie, would you be oh-so-kind?”

Complying as he shook his head in half disbelief, half entertainment, Steve retrieved the metallic limb and made his way to Ro and Bucky. Ro placed the prosthetic on her shoulder, aligning the open joint with the man’s shoulder as she motioned for Tony to pass her miniature (self-made, of course) welder and protective glasses. 

“Alrighty, here goes nothing,” Ro nonchalantly sighed out as she pressed the small button on the side of the pen size device prompting it to spark to life. Seeing Bucky was still watching intently the events mere inches from his face, Ro jabbed the safe end of the welder into his chin with a curt warning, “don’t look at the arc.” 

As Ro continued her assembly, Bucky shot Steve a look that can only be described as _who does this chick think she is?_ Steve shook his head as he stifled a laugh to which Bucky offered a slight smile as he rolled his eyes. If this lady meant anything to Steve, he would put up with her shenanigans. Plus, she was rather entertaining. And her lack of fear of him was a pleasant surprise. 

After an uneventful 15 minutes, Bucky was flexing and extending his fingers while rotating his wrist with an impressive scowl. Test driving the apparently offensive appendage.

“It feels a lot different.”

Unimpressed with the man’s lack of gratitude, Ro defended her creation despite her offense. “It isn’t as heavily innervated with the mock nerve endings as your last one; but,” the brunette exaggeratedly continued as she swivelled her stool to face Steve and Tony and began raising her voice. “That’s what you get when you are given _one damn_ week to create a functional prosthetic for a damn super soldier.”

Spinning back toward her creation, Ro dropped all drama as she calmly spoke as if her temporary loss of composure didn’t actually happen. “The real one will be ready later.”

“Real one?”

Straightening her back, Ro nonchalantly elaborated, “yeah, one that’ll put Hydra’s to shame.” Huffing out a laugh for dramatic flare, she continued as she began clearing her workspace, “compared to what I’ll be making, that previous tech was as ancient as you.” 

Ro completely missed the genuine smile Steve and Bucky shared and stifled laughter. Real mature, guys.

“When can I have that one?”

“Well,” Ro spun around on her stool then stood to face the current wearer of her tech, “I need to focus on my upcoming speech, _then_ I’ll get working on it and it’ll probably take, oh” Ro rhythmically tapped her fingers on the stainless steel table as she calculated dates mentally. “A month and a half. _But,_ ” placing her hands on her hips, Ro adamantly finished, “you don’t get it until I trust you.”

“Ro,” Steve flatly chastised. 

“ _Steve,_ ” Ro countered in her Steve-tone only abandoning the mockery with a somber explanation while gesturing between Tony and Steve. “Do I give anyone on the team one of my weapons before I trust them to use it responsibly?”

Knowing her stubbornness could easily outmatch both men standing before her, Ro outlasted the impromptu staring contest as Tony and Steve simultaneously shook their heads. 

“Then, I sure as hell am not giving him one before I trust him.”

Breaking the silence, Buck nonchalantly agreed as he stood from his semi-reclined position, “eh, makes sense.” 

Ro had to elicit honest effort to stifle her surprise as she continued to organize her workspace, probably more than was warranted. Yes, the Winter Soldier just agreed with her. No, he was not going to turn into the voice of reason. Ro would not allow it. He was the bad guy after all. Nodding to herself as she concluded her self-reassurance, Ro turned around to see Steve and Bucky in a full on embrace. A hug. A man...hug?

“Okay, fossils, sorry to interrupt the reunion; but, doc wants the cyborg in the training room,” Ro flashed a smile to Steve as she began walking toward the elevator.

“Is she always that way?”

Steve laughed at Bucky’s question, asked through a genuine laugh, eventually delivering a sarcastic response just as Ro made her way past the two men. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Ro began, feigning offense as she placed her hand on his chest, “but, you love it.”

“That I do,” Steve huffed out as he pulled Ro into his arms and innocently kissed her head. 

What sentimental emotions were present were abruptly interrupted by Tony’s dramatic gagging noises. “Sorry, just throwing up in my mouth here. Think I’m allergic to-”

“Emotion?” 

Shooting his adoptive daughter a look of disapproval, Tony moved on from his charade. “FRIDAY, is the training room vacant?”

“Yes, sir,” the polite Scottish voice omnisciently responded. 

“Why am I still ‘sir’ and not ‘boss?’”

Making her way to the now open elevator, Ro succinctly responded, “my lab time; I’m boss.”

“I’m beginning to feel like it happens _all_ the time,” the billionaire thought out loud as he, the doctor, and the two geriatrics boarded the elevator. Ro gave a devilish smile which her father didn’t deem was a sufficient response. She may or may not have altered FRIDAY’s system to permanently recognize her as boss. Maybe.


	3. Lab Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a shorter one; but, it builds on Ro and Bucky's "unique" relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is how I picture Buck throughout this chapter:
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, maybe that was just an excuse to post a gif of Seb...

The next couple weeks consisted of Ro engulfing herself in her work. She did have a speech to deliver at an internationally acclaimed conference and was determined to prove all of her doubters and haters wrong. She was a strong willed, independent, intelligent, young woman. Cue the end of her daily self-motivation speech.

Rowan had prepared for many speeches of the like before; however, this one proved to exhibit a new challenge. Normally she gladly accepted challenge, welcomed it as a friend prompting her to become the best form of herself. But, there has been nothing normal about the last few weeks. Namely, the distraction that took the form of a broody old man currently slumped in the corner of her lab probably scheming her violent demise. Or at least scheming his next way to distracting the poor brunette. Yes, poor Ro.

***   ***   ***

“So, why can’t you go be all mysterious around Steve?” Ro sarcastically (yet, honestly) elaborated, “he was just _elated_ to bring you here, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind your awkward mouth breathing like some of us.” The broody man really did seem to spend nearly every waking minute in her lab, poking and prodding various bits of equipment with a question evidently always on his tongue.

“He’s in a meeting,” Bucky admitted. “He’s always in meetings. Plus, I kind of, uh-”

Ro spun around on her stool, dramatically shifting her glasses down her nose to ensure her unwelcomed visitor could see her lack of patience. 

“May have broken my arm?” Bucky shrugged as he offered his metallic hand forward unsure how the firecracker in front of him would react. 

“Okay, terminator, not all of us have perfect vision. Scoot closer and I can take a look.”

Readily obliging, Bucky met Ro at the reclined chair that was now situated on the perimeter of the lab, allowing for a genuinely spectacular view of the New York skyline. Wielding an elongated screw driver of sorts, Ro paused upon seeing the damage to the prosthetic. 

“What’d you do to it?” Genuinely curious, Ro grazed her thumbs over the smoothly warped metal of the man’s palm.

“Working out with Steve,” Bucky admitted as he motioned a bench press which explained the rod like curvature Ro witnessed in his palm.

Without a drop of sympathy, Ro shot him a look of disapproval as she chastised the grown man, holding his prosthetic by his pinky, “I told you this is just a titanium alloy.” Bucky’s expression morphed to one of confusion prompting Ro to let out an exaggerated groan. “Meaning it’s nowhere near rivalling your calculated strength. Your metal arm will give before the muscle in your opposing arm would.”

Bucky nodded as he now understood the brunette’s warning. Watching her put thick gloves on and grab another mysterious tool, this one attached via hose to a small canister, Bucky cautiously inquired, “anything else I should be warned about?”

“Your fine motor skills will not be up to par with your right arm since I didn’t integrate the electrical components into your nervous system like the last one.” Bucky nodded in understanding as Ro put on protective goggles and flicked a switch on the small tool, dramatically igniting a flame as she flashed the man a devilish smile. 

“Lady, what the hell?” Bucky suddenly shifted his prosthetic away from the flame.

“You haven’t figured out that you can only detect pressure, not temperature?”

As the man shook his head, still mentally debating the woman’s sanity, Ro shifted the flame ever so slightly closer to the warped metal until Bucky took a deep breath and relaxed the limb. Taking the appropriate time to heat the metal to a vibrant orange red before reforming the proper curvature of the palm, Ro completed the current task in a mere 10 minutes.  

So, aside from her visitor being that Grade A jerk (in her eyes), her shadow wasn’t too cumbersome during work hours. At least he wouldn’t have been if the only rationale for his interruptions were due to technical malfunctions of the prosthesis. But, no. Oh, no. The man decided to vacate his corner chair (which Ro may or may not have shifted further away from her work station on a few occasions) and hijacked Tony’s stool. Right next to Ro. Just like their rooms: neighbors. With this newfound proximity came Bucky’s heightened curiosity. And with that came questions. Many. Questions.

***   ***   ***

“A cerebral...implant…” Bucky slowly repeated similarly as a child testing out new words, “that does what again?”

“Remotely communicates with external prostheses relaying the neurally based commands the brain would normally send to an afflicted limb.” Ro was vigorously massaging her temples. Typically she was thrilled to explain her research to interested parties; however, why did this interested party have to be him. Trying to reign in her excitement, Ro was desperate to not let Frozone see her soft side. Her passionate side. Nope, not Mr. Assassin. 

“That’s amazing,” Bucky continued as his eyes darted back and forth, ceaselessly following the technical jargon filled text of her latest published work. “So, not only can you help paralyzed kids walk; but, you can guarantee they won’t have to undergo excessive procedures later in life since it’s adaptable.” 

_I’ll be damned,_ Ro thought. The fossil not only understood every last word she recited, he actually listened. A member of the male gender listened. _I’ll. Be. Damned. Okay, Ro, pick your jaw up off the floor and change the subject._

“So, why can’t you just sit in the back of the meetings with Steve?” 

“His meetings today range from clearance level 3 to 7,” Bucky stated as if that explained his absence. 

“And you’re clearance level…?”

“One,” he reluctantly admitted as he stood and began aimlessly wandering as Ro shifted the screen of her computer, purposefully insinuating that she was also working on material above his clearance level. 

Huffing out a laugh at the irony, Ro continued typing as she explained her entertainment, “funny how I had to get promoted to level nine just to work on your arm, let alone view your files.” The further irony is that she read all those restricted files before she was granted clearance. But, Mr. Broody doesn’t need to know that minor detail now does he?

“You’ve read my files?”

Still typing, Ro nonchalantly answered with a simple, “mhm. More than anyone else at this compound actually.” 

“Even Steve?” Bucky’s retort was delivered as a challenge to which Ro gladly countered.

“ _Especially_ Steve.”

“Why?”

Thoroughly engrossed in her current paper, Ro didn’t even take advantage of a potential sass filled attitude and offered nothing but honesty. “He takes on enough of other people’s...hardships. He’s read enough of yours. Doesn’t need to trouble himself with any more.”

There was a long pause before Bucky concluded. “You’re protecting him.” Ro shrugged to which the man responded, “you’re good for him, you know.”

Pausing from her primary task at hand, Ro’s eyes abruptly stopped mid sentence on the computer screen. “Thanks?”

Shaking her head, Ro continued reading in silence until the further interruption caught her attention. This time in the form of light catching the flat side of a blade currently twirling through the former assassin’s hands. Despite Steve’s pleas for her understanding, Ro was adamant - she would never get used to his childhood friend _practicing_ with knives. It’s weird. Who does that? In the kitchen. In her lab. On the couch during movie night. What gives?

Taking a deep breath, the brunette whispered to herself, “pick your battles,” then allowed herself to succumb to the welcoming depths of research papers knowing she would be tracking down Natasha for an intense sparring match to relieve stress later than night.

***   ***   ***

“How many times do I have to tell you to _not_ touch my projects?”

This man was unbelievable. He was like a bored child left at mom’s work. And mom’s work just happened to be full of shiny toys. Days without a Bucky incident: 0.

“Technically,” the former assassin spun gracefully on his heel and raised his prosthetic arm and gave a lopsided grin, “ _this_ is your project.”

Following a loud groan, Ro provided (an apparently necessary) clarification. “If it is not attached to your body, do not touch it.”

Turning back to her computer screen, Ro increased the volume of her current selection of classical music as if forcing serenity into her body. Without even shifting her gaze, Ro immediately knew what project the man was making his way toward. On the table behind the brunette lay the newest (not yet tested) model of Falcon’s wings. Unbelievable. 

“And no you cannot bypass my rule by _putting one of my projects on…_ ” Removing her glasses and casting her glance over her shoulder to ensure the man child was listening, Ro added, “and wipe that shit eating grin off your face.” 

The man laughed as he backed away from the encased wings. A stifled laugh; but, a laugh nonetheless. And the worst part? Rowan felt the edges of her lips curl up as well. Curse this jerk and his emotional sorcery.

***   ***   ***

Days without a Bucky incident: 3. Three peaceful days of no interruption (aside from Mr. Broody stalking her in her own lab and mindlessly twirling his blades of death). Ro would have thought this newfound streak was impressive; however, if she was being honest with herself, the streak was just begging to be broken. Like, today.

Despite the relaxation promoted by her typical classical music, Ro’s pent up frustrations increased with every damn crumb that fell from the soldier’s mouth onto her organized piles of papers. Trying to force the sounds of crumbs falling (yes, she could hear them, it was that bad), Ro took another bite from the sandwich in her left hand as she continued reading the current paper in her right. 

“Did you write these?” Oh, wonderful; the food pulverizer would like to chat.

“No,” Ro mumbled through her last bite while gesturing to the various packets covering the lunch table. “These papers were written by people that will be asking me questions after my speech, though.”

The garbage disposal took another bite, conveniently dislodging a tablespoon of crumbs. A freaking tablespoon. On her papers.

“Do they ever get competitive in your field?”

“Some of the old farts will,” Ro shrugged, feeling the need to somewhat elaborate, “since I’m substantially younger...and female.”

“Thought that was resolved while I was frozen?” And of course Mr. Assassin has a soft spot for gender equality. You’re not supposed to have any likeable qualities, sir.

“There’s always someone out there willing to keep that kind of shit alive.” Before Rowan could even finish her sentence, in goes another ridiculously large bite to the man’s mouth followed by a stream of crumbs that would make Niagara Falls jealous. “Okay, seriously?” Dramatically gesturing to the near feast covering the research papers, Ro ensured not to spare any exaggerated flare. 

“Don’t you have a robot or something that does clean up?” 

Seriously? Did this man just go there?

“You made the mess; you clean it up,” Ro demanded, lowering her voice as she continued. “And to think it’s _your_ generation that calls _my_ generation lazy.”

Seeing the brood still staring at her, Ro uses her entire body to point to the dustbuster hanging on a nearby window. Making his way cautiously over to the handheld machine, Bucky shoots Ro one last confused glance. Ro wasn’t going to give in to his ignorance even if the man truly hadn’t seen one before. Time to figure it out you big brute. 

Bucky gently plucks the device off the wall and observes it from all angles before pressing the button to abruptly make a face upon hearing the soft whirring sound emitted from the contraption. Repeating the action again, Bucky placed his metallic hand over the suction and let out an impressed hum before turned back to Ro and the picnic for ants on the table. 

“This one of your inventions?”

Trying with all her might to keep her smile at bay, Ro looked back at her current paper as she nonchalantly responded, “does it have my name on it?”

Feigning ignorance, Bucky reads the side of the dustbuster, “Bissell?”

Ro shoots the jokester an unamused look and corrects him, “Stark.”

“You’re Tony’s daughter?” 

While the shock value was entertaining, Ro didn’t want to get into personal conversations with Bucky. He was her project. Rummaging through the table’s built in drawer, Ro shoved two cordless, self-made earbuds into her ears while offering a simplistic response. 

“Adopted.”

Despite not actually starting any music, the gesture evidently prompted the now cleaning (albeit awkwardly) assassin to cease further questions. Mission accomplished, Ro. Props.

“She’s got you in here for what, a week, and you’re already cleaning up after her?”

It took every ounce of self control to inhibit the smile forming across Ro’s face as Steve entered at the most opportune time. Thank you, universe, for being on the right side for once.  

***   ***   ***

“Thanks for not kicking me out.”

Ro paused, wondering where the genuine gratitude from her shadow must have come from. Hmm, sincerity with this man is unacceptable, though. He’s still a jerk in her eyes. 

“Keep that mouth flapping and I may.”

Given the brunette didn’t falter her gaze from her laptop, she missed the smirk Bucky flashed in her direction, utterly amused by her ceaseless jabs. 

“But,” Ro cautiously began, genuinely curious, “why do you ask?”

“Everyone else tenses when I enter a room...or they just straight up leave.” 

Ro nods in affirmation that she heard the man yet still unsure how to appropriately respond. Everyone just leaves? She’s really the only person that tolerates his presence? Nope. No, Ro. Don’t start feeling sorry for him. Next, you’ll be feeling the warm and fuzzies. 

“But, not you,” he egged. “Why?”

“Well, for starters, this is _my_ lab; so, I’m not up and leaving. But,” breaking her gaze from her computer, Ro shifted her glasses to atop her head as she made rare eye contact with Bucky. “Steve means a whole hell of a lot to me. And I promised him I would try not to treat you like the ass I think you are.”

The laugh that emitted from Steve’s childhood friend before her was a wholehearted, whole body laugh. One that when you see it, you almost can’t help but smile. Almost.

“Thanks for the honesty, …?” Bucky cocked his head to the side in thought, “what do I call you.”

And here go the personal questions again. There was such a good streak going. Days without a Bucky incident: 4. A new record. 

Turning around, focusing her gaze back to the computer screen, Ro succinctly replied, “Dr. Stark.”

“Doctor?”

Clarifying, Ro elaborated, “PhD. Not MD or DO.”

Concerned by the abnormal length of silence, Ro glanced over her shoulder to see that she evidently lost the man within the alphabet soup. 

“Not a medical doctor. I don’t have patients, I have projects.” The simplified explanation evidently sufficed as adequate. 

Letting out what could only be defined as a chuckle, Bucky inquired, “is that what I am to you?”

“Yep,” Ro curtly replied, purposefully popping the p as she spun back towards her beloved technology.

“I don’t think Stevie would like to hear that.” Unbelievable. This man was purposefully pressing her buttons. She could feel the smirk from across the lab.

Mocking in a childish whine, Ro mumbled, “ _I don’t think Stevie would like to hear that._ ”

At least the man was silent now. Maybe stooping to such a low level is another way to garner her much sought after peace. But, oh no. He’s just meandering through her personal desk area (not that she ever uses it as such), taking in all the details. 

“Fine,” Ro began, trying to get the stalker to refrain from further snooping. “I’ll settle for calling you Mr. Barnes.”

“Seriously?” 

Ignoring the playful tone, Ro bartered, “Sergeant or Mister. You pick the title.”

“But, you don’t call Steve ‘Captain.’”

“I call Steve all sorts of things - whatever he means to me at the time.” Ro thought a little, shifting slightly but not enough to fully break her gaze from her work. “Stevie...bro...Cap,” Ro rhythmically tapped her fingers against the keyboard, thinking for more interesting examples. “...Capsicle...asshat...you get the gist.”

“And what do you call Tony?” Oh, boy. This guy has some sort of shenanigan planned. “Call him whatever he means to you at the time?” Not okay.

“Pretty much.”

“Then, call me whatever I mean to you,” Bucky nonchalantly concluded. 

Ro smiled. The man walked right into this one. “Mmk...project.”

Laughing, the former popsicle made his way to the elevator. “I’m going to get some food. I’m assuming you won’t eat unless I bring some back, right?”

“Ah, you know me so well,” Ro threw her hand over her chest, feigning being emotionally touched. 

“I’m tryin’,” Buck flashed that shit eating grin once again as the elevator doors began to shut, leaving only a few inches of visibility before adding, “Ro.”

Ro threw her arms in the air in surrender. Curse this ever loving heap of a man. Not only was he offering to get her food and apparently using her nickname, the Buckster just got the last word in and, damn, was it a good one. A meaningful one since it was a smart ass one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we liking their relationship? Yea? Nay?
> 
> The next chapter is probably going to be substantially longer because...well...I have big plans for this crew. _Big plans._


	4. A Day in the Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a longer chapter this time - all about an average day in the tower. As in, chaos ensues.

“Kid, I know I’ve said this a million times now,” Tony began as he dramatically lowered his tinted glasses (even though everyone was inside…), “but, you were amazing!” 

Amidst agreement from Steve, Nat, and Clint to Tony’s praise, Ro shrugged it off as she removed her heels, desperate to replace her highly dreaded ‘professional’ attire for comfort. Not only had Ro completed her much anticipated presentation, but, she utterly dominated the panel, meaning she survived the rigorous questions from the most distinguished members of her field. Yay for successful daily early-morning pep talks in front of the mirror. 

“Thanks again, _dad,_ ” Ro rolled her eyes as she shot a glance toward Tony that emphasized both her annoyance but genuine gratitude. “I still can’t believe all of you made it!”

The entire team had made it. And then some. As in, every Avenger plus Bucky. Seeing the entire group in public was rare enough; seeing a rogue assassin in the midst of Earth’s mightiest heroes was even more of a rarity. What Fury doesn’t know won’t kill him. Right?

“So, food,” Tony succinctly stated, half in question form.

“Hmm,” Ro deviously began, clasping her hands in front of her mouth, “up for making a miracle happen?”

“Anything after that spectacular performance.”

“I want take out from that Thai place two blocks from the tower,” Ro softly spoke to her adoptive father, trying her best rendition of Captain’s puppy dog eyes. 

“The one that doesn’t actually offer a take out option?” Tony’s expression adopted an are-you-kidding-me tone as Steve and Nat just laughed to Ro’s nod in affirmation. Clint was ecstatic; T’s Bistro was his favorite as well. “Fine, let me make a couple calls.”

As Tony left the living area to use his social status to his benefit, Ro made her way back to Steve, embracing the super soldier in a hug. “I have to ask, how did America’s golden boy convince Fury to ignore one of his few contingencies for harboring Frosty?”

Smiling and utterly dodging the answer, Steve shrugged, “since when do you care about Fury and his rules?” 

Ro let out a laughing groan at the validity of his statement as none other than Bucky waltzed up to the duo with a genuine grin plastered across his smug face. 

“You did great, Ro.” And, hell, the man gives genuine compliments, too. Without any tinge of sarcasm. 

Before Ro could respond with appreciation (her mind was taking a little longer than it should have. Totally because of the presentation. Nothing to do with Bucky. Of course not.), Steve placed a brotherly slap against his childhood friend’s shoulder. 

“This guy kept getting fussed at for talking during the presentation,” Steve jovially jabbed. 

“Someone had to dumb it down for you, pal,” Bucky immediately threw back. 

Leaning toward Ro, Steve added, “apparently someone was paying attention during all those weeks in your lab.” 

Ro’s oh-so-elegant response was evidently going to be a slack jawed stare out of sheer incredulity. Fortunately, Nat swooped in before Ro could unnecessarily add to any further awkwardness. 

“So, does this mean we get the real Rowan back?”

As the two ladies walked off, laughing amongst each other, Buck turned to Steve in curiosity, “the _real_ Rowan?”

“Ro’s more...toned down when she has a big project like this presentation,” Steve began, already smiling as he wasn’t sure how to explain the woman’s typical persona. “You’ll see her free spirit soon enough, I’m sure.” Before Bucky could counter Steve’s definition of a _toned down_ Rowan, Tony joined the group after a quick phone call. 

“Alright, Thai is being delivered!”

With various exclamations of excitement, primarily coming from Clint and Ro, Nat was taking the first round of drink orders. 

“Ro, will you _finally_ have that drink with me?”

Rolling her eyes in response to Nat’s dramatic antics, Ro opened her mouth to provide her desired order to only be interrupted by Steve. “Why weren’t you drinking?” Throwing his right hand over his chest, the super soldier continued in feigned concern, “so unlike you!”

Leave it to Falcon to continue the unwarranted charade, “oh my gosh, she’s pregnant!”

Whelp, if there was a way to shut up a group of Avengers, this sure as hell was it. All staring at Ro. Awaiting for her rapid denial. But, Ro was prepared for this, in the only way she knew how: with a large dose of insult. 

“Go pluck yourself, birdbrain.” Relishing in the communal laughter, Ro elected to elaborate, “but, that’d be impossible, I-”

With a dramatic gasp, Ro was cut off by the utter disbelief of their resident gossip, Clint. “You’ve _never_?” 

“Guys,” Tony began before Ro could respond (come on, y’all, give the lady some time to speak) with his hands extended and eyes shut tight. “She’s practically my kid. Can we _not_ talk about her sexual activities?” As if that made the whole situation better. Come on, Tony.

“You’re not exactly one to talk, _dad._ ” After shooting her father an impressive glare, Ro’s gaze shifted back to Clint, addressing the archer’s prodding question. “It’s...been a while, though. I’ve just been too consumed in work and didn’t need anything else distracting me.” Giving a definitive nod as if to force the conclusion of the conversation, Ro sunk back into the couch with Wanda and Steve on either side. 

“Anything... _else,_ ” Clint suggestively repeated. Oh lord, here we go. Mr. Gossip is just looking for something juicy to gush over. “What _else_ was distracting you?”

Ro pointed to Bucky’s arm, defensively adding, “ _that_ is what I’ve been wanting to work on. _That_ is where my focus is.”

“Whoa,” Steve threw his hands up in feigned defense, “he was _just_ thawed out. Think it’s a little early to be getting into a relationship, now.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Ro immediately began eliciting a few ohh’s from their now accumulating audience, “that is _not_ what I was insinuating and you know it.” 

Leave it to Bucky to provide the next retort, just milking Ro’s discomfort. “Nah,” the brunette super soldier shrugged, perfectly feigning offense, “she said it earlier. I’m just a project.” 

Ro’s palm dramatically found her forehead as Steve’s expression fell, indicating he utterly fell for his childhood friend’s ploy. Wonderful. Steve honestly believes Bucky thinks Ro only sees him as a project and not a human being. Just. Wonderful.

In an attempt to make amends, Ro sloughs her head toward Steve and mumbled through her hands covering her face, “you know I didn’t mean it that way. He’s more than that-”

“Ohh?” Ro could _feel_ Sam’s suggestive eyebrow raise. 

“I’m done with you people,” Ro hummed out, slouching impossibly far into the couch. 

“You know you love us.” And then comes Nat’s joyous interjections.

“You forgot my alcohol,” Ro accusingly jabbed toward Nat as she rose from her spot on the couch to take the liquid courage matters into her own hands.

“Darling, before you go-”

“What do you want, dad?”

“Party in honor of our one and only,” Tony wrapped an arm around Ro’s shoulders before continuing softly, “in three weeks?”

“Do I have a choice?” Sloughing off Tony’s embrace, Ro side stepped toward the bar on the opposite side of the living quarters. 

“Nope!” 

“Yay,” Ro deadpans, mentally committing herself to a double shot of whatever drink she was to prepare. Despite the pending delivery of her favorite Thai food, Ro knew with the persistence of her wonderful house mates, she would need a ceaseless stream of liquid tolerance.

***   ***   ***

“What the hell is that?”

Steve tilted his head in an attempt to define the source of the heavy bass that was getting progressively louder as the elevator made its descent to the communal kitchen. 

Smiling in recognition of the song, Steve responds to Bucky’s query, “that would be 80’s rock.”

The silver elevator doors open, allowing the two super soldiers to exit to a rather entertaining view of Ro in pajama shorts and an oversized Iron Man t-shirt, standing on the kitchen island. Well, not just standing. More like gyrating her hips to the obnoxiously loud beat as she sang into a spatula in a surprisingly decent rendition of Def Leppard’s _Pour Some Sugar on Me._

Tony was currently cradling his face in his hands, refusing to witness Ro’s charade as if the sight would blind the man permanently. Nat, Wanda, and Clint were providing back up dancing and singing in seemingly uncoordinated movements (at least they were on the floor like normal individuals). Vision and Banner were successfully tuning out the show behind them, fully enthralled in a paragraph of text projected above the kitchen table. Sam had taken over as chef, giving his best effort at flipping the pancakes despite his lack of appropriate utensils - the spatula was currently necessitated as Ro’s microphone. Priorities.

Steve laughed at Bucky’s shocked expression, mouth agape in the midst of shameless staring, offering a friendly back slap before elaborating, “and that would be the _real_ Rowan.”

“Is this a, uh,” Bucky began, vaguely waving his hand in Ro’s direction, “a frequent occurrence?” 

Shrugging, Steve countered, “weekly.”

“Yeah, when she’s not busy with projects,” Wanda added, looking Bucky up and down in an accusatory manner.

Just then, Ro (still on the counter) turned toward Steve and belted out the last chorus with impeccably timed hip rotations that were making the super soldier’s ears flush red. Mission accomplished. 

Giving a bow as the music came to an end, Ro turned (yep, _still_ on the counter) to face her dad. “Have I made my point or shall I provide an encore?” In the midst of Tony’s groans of detestation mixed with Nat and Wanda’s shouts of encouragement, Ro elaborated, “I’m thinking... _You Shook Me All Night Long_?”

“No!” Tony’s head flung back into his hands, causing his demand to end in a faded muffle.

“Tony,” Sam spoke up, shoveling off perfectly golden pancakes (he’s now been promoted to breakfast chef). “You’re in luck, food’s ready. Ro,” shooting his eyebrows sky high, Sam succinctly demanded to the youngest Stark, “down.”

A quick “Steve!” was all the warning the blond super soldier received before Ro fell backwards off the kitchen island into the man’s arms. “Thanks,” Ro softly offered as she patted Steve’s chest, “that was like a crazy trust exercise.”

Depositing Ro on her feet, Steve inquired through a smile of suspicion, “so, what were you trying to prove to Tony with that little show?”

“Tony over here accused my generation of producing _raunchier_ music than his.” Looking back toward Steve, Ro placed an open palm on her chest, feigning defense, “I’m just here to prove him wrong.”

“Mission accomplished,” Clint added with more excitement than was warranted as he made his way toward Ro, giving the brunette a high five. “That was quite the show.”

“I’ll be here all night,” Ro dramatically added, flinging her hair over her shoulder while following the archer to the quickly forming pancake line.

Steve turned toward the group, donning his Captain-ly demeanor, “don’t eat too much, everyone. Training in 30.” Buzzkill.

***   ***   ***

“As far as daily training, we each tend to do our own thing,” Steve began explaining to his childhood friend as both, thoroughly drenched in sweat, made their way from the treadmills to the sparring area. “Except every other week, we do group activities: sparring tournament, cardio kickboxing, or Ro may bring out some new equipment that needs testing.”

“Stuff she makes?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughs as if reminiscing before continuing, “she comes up with some interesting tech. Just a heads up sometimes she’ll pull a prank with them.”

“With weapons?” Bucky wasn’t sure if he was impressed or alarmed by Ro _playing_ with weaponry. After all, they were talking about the same lady who chastised him for practicing with knives. 

“Just the training ones,” Steve nonchalantly shrugged, offering a devilish smile. 

With a loud thud, the two super soldiers glanced up to see Rowan pinning Clint down, both bodies laying flat on the mat, perpendicular to one another. Chests heaving, Ro pulls the archer to his feet just as red hair plummets into her side. 

Quickly pinning Ro’s arms above her head, Natasha leans in dangerously close to her newfound opponent’s face and offers a grave warning, “ _he_ wouldn’t have stopped when Clint did.”

Grunting out her frustrations, Ro flips the redhead, gaining a temporary upper hand (it’s Natasha, any advantage is always only temporary). Situating her feet against Natasha’s core, Ro thrusted her opponent off of her body, giving ample time to regain an upright position. 

Through clenched teeth, Ro warns, “do _not_ bring him into this.” Taking a calculated step, Ro fakes one kick to the shoulder rapidly followed by one solid kick to Natasha’s abdomen, sending the redhead stumbling off the mat with a smile plastered on her face. A freaking smile. Seriously, Nat?

“Let it out, kiddo,” she taunted, making her way back onto the mat. “How would you make him suffer?”

Submitting all inhibitions to rage, Rowan lunged forward and began a beautifully arced roundhouse. Given her opponents lightning quick reflexes, Ro’s ankle was soon surrounded by Natasha’s slender yet strong hand which paused a fraction of a second before sending the limb upward, forcing Ro’s body to harshly land on the floor. 

“Water, then we go again,” was all the former assassin offered before making her way to the bench where Clint and the waters sat. 

“ _How would you make him suffer,_ she asks,” Ro mocked as she lay sprawled on the mat, knowing she wasn’t speaking loud enough for anyone to properly hear. Losing herself to rage was her weakness. Ro knew this. So did Nat. Ro also knew Nat was just trying to help; but, damn did that lady know how to press the wrong (or right) buttons. “How about we start off with castrating the jackass then shove his-” 

Ro’s oration was cut off by a coolness that gently nudged her leg. Looking down she saw the water bottle that Clint rolled toward her current residence. 

“Well, damn.”

Steve nodded toward Bucky as both men maintained their decent distance from the semi occupied sparring mat. “Nat knows how to push Ro and bring out her best.” Taking a quick swig from his water bottle, the blond continued without doubt, “she can hold her own against those two.”

“Really?” Bucky’s skepticism was evident and probably even warranted given Rowan’s current prominent exhaustion as she continued to sip her water, crouched down on one knee. 

“Boys,” Cap and Buck jumped slightly at Wanda’s sudden appearance, “get ready for the fighter to come out.” Ignoring Steve’s knowing smile and Bucky’s confusion, Wanda delivered the AI’s command. “FRIDAY, play _Radioactive_ from Ro’s Warrior playlist.” Wanda was quite entertained by ignoring Bucky’s highly evident confusion. He’s in for a fun surprise. 

The moment Ro recognized the music emitting from the gym’s hidden speakers was clear as the edge of her lips curled devilishly. Tilting her head toward Wanda, she offered a quick wink before recapping her bottle, utterly relishing in the pending deep bass that always infused confidence in her being. 

Seeing Clint’s extended arm out of the corner of her eye, Ro’s devilish smile grew with the music’s crescendo. Ignoring the offer of assistance, Ro used the leverage of her downed knee to swing her opposite foot through the archer’s legs, successfully sending him to the mat. Hearing the thud, Natasha made two long strides toward her now mounted partner and hurled the contents of her water bottle onto Ro, thoroughly drenching the brunette. 

“What the hell?” Ro abandoned her efforts with Clint and all but strutted toward Natasha who had donned her iconic smirk. The two ladies began exchanging blows with strikingly similar fighting styles before the redhead offered a response. 

“Nothing is off limits in the real world!”

Before Ro could further contemplate Nat’s cryptic warning, Clint joined the choreography, offering a fresh fighting style that pushed Ro’s control over the edge. Desperately trying to find a way to out think the duo, Ro decided to take Nat’s words to heart. Stepping back, the brunette held her hands, clasped together with both pointer fingers extended, forming the shape of a gun with her thumbs, against her right shoulder. Offering a knowing smirk, Ro smoothly shifted her hands from her right shoulder to her left hip, the motion that would remotely summon her weapon of choice. 

“Shit,” Natasha grumbled, “Clint!” The archer nodded in affirmation; the duo knew the time to overcome their opponent was now dwindling. 

“I’m confused,” Bucky began, noting the nervous exchange between the redhead and the archer. “Why are they worried? They have her.”

“You’ll see,” Steve offered, knowing the show was only beginning. Rowan was a Stark after all; theatrics are always involved. 

“Also, we’re about to be in the line of fire,” Wanda noted as the three took a few cautious steps to the left (at this point Bucky was just doing as Steve), leaving a clear path between the door and the sparring mat. 

Ro ducked and rolled off the sparring mat toward the bench with the water bottles, snagging Clint’s nearly hidden collapsible bow. It was his favorite, which made Ro’s newfound possession of the weapon that much sweeter. Rage driven, Clint charged Ro in an attempt to disarm her of his most prized possession. Timing his steps, Ro takes a calculated swing with the bow and causes the archer to once again splat on the floor. 

“Can’t seem to stay on your feet, Katniss,” Ro playfully taunts as she twists the bow, separating it into two batons, as Clint rights himself. 

Having both batons raised, held horizontally in front of her opponents ready to strike, Ro hears a loud thud on the gym doors and offers a thievish smile before tossing the batons at her opponents, knowing she only needs a split second of distraction. With three long strides, Ro launches her body into the air as if jumping onto an invisible elevated platform. 

Natasha’s Russian curses were heard as two metallic objects make their way toward Rowan, mid jump; the first latches onto her left foot, clamping itself down, as the second drops a gun in her left hand before enclosing itself around her right hand and wrist. Strikingly similar to Tony’s Iron Man suits, Ro’s boot and gauntlet are composed of a durable metal emitting some sort of repulsive energy allowing her to hover approximately six feet in the air. 

“Seriously?” Rowan shot Clint an unamused look as he released the taut string of his bow, sending an arrow speeding toward Ro’s chest. Easily catching the weapon with her gauntleted hand, she threw the offensive weapon back towards its owner followed by a rapid succession of three shots from her gun. 

Lowering herself to hover one foot above the ground, Ro blocked Nat’s way to Clint who was mumbling various curses while rolling on the floor. With the glowing gauntlet and specialty gun pointed at Natasha, the redhead reluctantly raised her arms up in surrender. 

“She shot me!” Clint stammered, “she actually freakin’ shot me!” The man did have the right to be offended; but, Ro knew he was being dramatic. The remainder of the team desperately ran toward the downed member.

“They’re training guns, they don’t shoot real bullets,” Ro explained as she offered the weapon to a highly offended Captain for inspection.

Fully aware of the lack of true danger, Wanda was doubled over in laughter in response to Clint’s continued hysterics. Natasha just shook her head in earnest surprise; her trainee had surpassed her. 

“But, she didn’t tell me,” Clint mumbled as he rolled onto his knees, still clutching his chest where the false bullets penetrated. “The fear was real, guys!”

“You shot a legitimate, non-training arrow at me!” It’s true, the man is at fault for that one. Curse you, Clint. Ro extended her non-covered hand to help Clint to his feet as she abandoned all sympathy, “‘sides, those shots don’t feel anything like a real bullet. Woman up!”

“They still hurt!” This man could be such a child at times. 

“Nat said nothing was off limits,” Ro deflected the blame, offering a shoulder shrug to emphasize her lack of concern. 

“Damn you, Nat.” The level of unamusement that graced Nat’s face upon hearing Clint’s words was downright impressive. 

Before further mudslinging could ensue, Rowan felt an all encompassing pressure around her neck, voiding her access to air entirely. As her feet left the floor, Ro hopelessly groped at the massive appendage around her neck, half expecting to feel metal. Nope, flesh and blood left arm. Not her project.

“Remember what I said about when you beat Nat and Clint?” She instantaneously recognized that voice eliciting a stoic yet calming demeanor. Steve. 

“New...sparring...partner,” Ro fortunately managed to gurgle out a series of syllables that closely resembled the words she attempted. Then, Ro allowed her mind to actually process the unfolding scene. 

Steve told Ro she would get a new partner after successfully beating Nat and Clint. True. She did _successfully_ beat Nat and Clint. True. Now, Steve is holding Ro in a rather compromising chokehold. Also, true. Steve is her new partner-to-beat.

“Ah, shit.”

Upon hearing Ro’s curse, Steve understood Ro finally connected the dots and released his new opponent. Rowan gently placed flattened palms together, pressing aligned metal and flesh fingers against her lips before sharply moving her hands down one foot. 

“Well, if we’re going to play _that_ way,” Steve spoke with raised eyebrows, evidently not approving Rowan’s summoning action.  Finishing his spoken thought, Steve snagged a sleeve of durable plastic from his nearby bag and slid the article over his forearm. With a quick flexion of his fingers, the sleeve emitted a faint blue glow to which the onlooking team members stepped back, knowing the main event had arrived. 

With a similar loud thud of the gym door as before, Rowan offered a quick, “this’ll be fun” before catapulting her body into the air. In a highly coordinated fashion, the entirety of her suit was assembled around her body in a slender and silver version of her father’s world renowned suit. Ro remained hovering as Captain’s shield came flying into the gym in a similar fashion as her suit, rapidly finding his summoner, fixating itself to Steve’s forearm. 

“And for the main event,” Wanda spoke dramatically, raising her arms above her head for additional flare. Ro really was wearing off on the Sokovian; ‘bout time.

Rowan, fully decked out in her gear, and Steve were having more fun than was warranted given they were supposed to be sparring. This was Ro’s first opportunity to test out many of the self-made gadgets on her suit on an actual target. Those practice dummies are great and all; but, shooting at Steve is more entertaining. 

“Ro, we’re supposed to be practicing,” Steve shouted at the silver suit that was elevated approximately eight feet in the air, circumventing his current position. The man was starting to think he was being used as target practice for an interesting variety of weapons. Which wasn’t entirely false.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Holding up her left gauntleted arm, Ro’s suit discharged three sharp spirals; two were easily deflected by Steve’s shield while the third nicked the super soldier’s shoulder. 

“What was that?” Steve snagged the spiral that had fallen to the ground and began analyzing the device. 

It was only two inches long with a needle like protrusion extending an additional fraction of an inch. Tilting the metal back and forth, Steve saw a blue liquid sloshing back and forth. Then, the blue turned yellow as the two inch spiral started slithering through his fingers prompting the man to drop the morphing object. In utter confusion, Steve stumbled back a step before looking toward Ro, demanding an answer.

“Ro!” 

She wasn’t there. No one was there. Not even the slithering...weapon? The gym had been replaced with a large white room. No, not a room. There were no walls, no ceiling. Steve glanced down toward the shield in his hand, struggling to find something concrete to which his mind could focus. The white star in the center began growing in size shortly followed by the red and blue hues creating a kaleidoscope effect, filling every inch of the boundless room. Steve huffed out a single syllable upon feeling a sharp sensation in his neck. 

“Steve?”

It wasn’t until Steve profusely tried to focus on the auditory input that he realized all noise had ceased during the last few moments. Amidst hearing his name repeatedly called, the red and blue star-filled eternity began morphing into a small group of unidentifiable faces standing in front of him. 

“Hey, Stevie?” Ro. He recognized that voice. Why couldn’t he focus on her face, though?

“You with us, pal?” And that was Buck. 

Forcing his eyes open and closed a few more times, he was able to distinguish three faces in front of him. One with shoulder length dark brown hair on the left. Buck. The second face was surrounded by metal. Ro in her suit. The third with red hair and an utterly pissed off expression. That was Nat...about to yell at someone. Probably Tony. It’s always Tony.

“What…” Steve began, swallowing away a bitter taste before continuing, “Ro, explanation.”

“How’s your sight?” Ro immediately demanded, forcing his right eye open wider before shining a bright light. 

Shoving her hand to the side, refusing any further distraction, Steve donned a stern tone, “It’s back to normal. Explanation. Now.”

Bucky and Natasha both began pestering Ro about what Steve was injected with to which Ro raised her arm to provide her defense. “It’s a totally harmless hallucinogenic drug I created. I didn’t think it’d be that strong in such a small dose, especially given your high metabolism.” Ro raised her arms as if preparing to defend herself before adding, “I injected you with the antidote as soon as I realized you weren’t coming off the high.”

“You _drugged_ him?” Of course Tony and Bruce come storming into the gym just in time to hear Natasha’s accusatory question. Of course. 

Rolling her neck, knowing there was no avoiding the honest answer, Ro nodded, “yes.”

“What happened?” Tony demanded, as the two men made their way to the now huddled team. “And Ro, why are you wearing a suit?”

“Sparring practice,” Ro began, shifting her hands from side to side as she succinctly surmised the latest charade. “Nat said nothing was off limits. I beat Clint and Nat. Steve wanted to spar. I shot Steve with a little bit of Paradise.”

“Paradise?” Tony accusingly inquired as Bruce picked up the two full spiral vials and Ro passed the doctor the half filled third vial. 

“We were working on it for the Other Guy,” Bruce admitted with his head hung low. “When... _he’s_ in control, he’s highly visually receptive. The sight of any potential weapon can be a trigger for him. So, we created this,” Bruce held up the vials with the blue liquid. “It’s a hallucinogenic drug that overtakes the optical function in the brain along with triggering the release of neurotransmitters to promote a calming effect. Overall, it’s peaceful. So, we call it Paradise.”

Ro stood silently, attempting to read everyone’s expressions. Clint, Wanda, and Nat seemed generally accepting upon hearing Banner’s explanation. Steve’s expression was a calculated one, still weighing all the information. What’s new about that though? Tony looked highly interested and mildly impressed, actually plucking a vial from Bruce to allow a proper examination. Bucky. Oh, Bucky. The man was staring at Steve like their lives depended upon the intensity of the gaze. 

“Steve, you know I wouldn’t use it unless it had been tested, right?” 

Nodding slightly, Steve inquired further, “on who?”

“Me,” Dr. Banner chimed in, ultimately relieving any remaining hesitations Steve had. 

“Let’s not make a habit of drugging the team.” Ro laughed at Steve’s request (more like demand) as the super soldier pulled her in for a forgiving side hug. Fortunately, that exchange seemed to calm Bucky’s nerves as well. Ro still wasn’t a fan; but, you definitely don’t want the Winter Soldier on your bad side. 

“So, it actually works for him,” Natasha, with a hopeful undertone, softly asked Bruce. He nodded in affirmation before pulling Nat into a rare show of affection. 

“This is awesome, kiddo!” And, leave it to Tony to ruin the mood. “But, next time you’re gonna pull out the suit, invite me.” With a flick of his wrists, the eldest Stark had summoned his own suit. The encore had begun, absolving all negative tension from the drugging of Captain America shenanigan. I mean, come on Steve. It wasn’t like it was LSD. 

***   ***   ***

Three ice packs used by two Avengers ungracefully sprawled out on one couch with zero regrets. That was a rather apt depiction of Ro and Tony’s current predicament. Tony was slouched so far that his legs easily rested on the coffee table (which was highly indicative of his sheer exhaustion since it’s considered a no-no if anyone else’s feet hit that table) while Ro’s legs were draped over the armrest. Letting out a groan, Tony shifted one ice pack from his right knee to his left while leaving the other on his swollen shoulder. Ro fared better than her father, only nursing a killer headache with an ice pack draped over her eyes and forehead.

“You do both realize how stupid of a decision that was, right?” Leave it to the VA counselor, the always gentle soul, to abandon all sympathies. Thanks, Sam. 

“How were we supposed to know that when the repulsors crossed paths they caused a highly _impressive_ explosion?” Tony was right; the resultant boom was highly impressive. And unique. The explosion was a bright white light, felt not through immense heat but through a concussive wave reverberating through the gym not an hour ago. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam sarcastically began, “you two do always refer to yourselves as the _only geniuses in this oh-so-glorious establishment._ ”

Ro huffed out a laugh at Sam’s best impersonation of her father before reaffirming his statement, “we are geniuses.” I guess Banner wasn’t included in Tony’s definition of the Stark family. Sorry, Brucie. 

“And this _is_ a glorious establishment,” Tony added, flailing his arms around to indicate not only the wonderful communal living area but the entirety of the tower. 

“The rest of your verbiage went in one ear and out the other, though.” Ro gave a sly smile in response to the various head shakes of disapproval she knew her team just gave the two Starks.

“But, come on,” Tony began nonchalantly, “you all have to admit that explosion was impressive, though.” Ro blindly held up her fist to which Tony promptly responded with a fist bump. Sam scoffed as Cap and Banner let out slight chuckles. Ro liked to think Nat delivered her signature smirk. Who knows what Bucky’s reaction was; wild card if he even stuck around.

“The characteristics of the explosion were like nothing else,” Bruce agreed. “It’s something I think we should definitely look into.” Ro gave a thumbs up accompanied by a devilish smile as Tony and Banner began quietly theorizing specifics. 

Ro felt the edge of the couch to her left sink down as Steve spoke softly. At least someone was being considerate of her throbbing headache. Thank you, Steven. “So, you two really had no idea this would happen?” Without the utterly genuine tone, Ro would have thought Cap was taking another jovial stab at the Stark duo. 

“What he’s really asking is how the hell have you two _not_ done that before?” And there’s Buck. So much for genuine sympathy. 

“ _Accidentally,_ ” Steve corrected (and chastised) his childhood friend to ensure Ro wasn’t offended. Oh, Stevie, Mr. Ice Man cannot offend Ro that easily.

“ _Of course._ ” If Ro didn’t despise the man, she would have complimented Buck on his mockery which included a perfected Steve-tone. 

“Well, we don’t go around shooting each other for starters,” Ro replied with utmost sarcasm. 

“I beg to differ!” Clint’s mumbled shout prompted Ro to remove her ice pack and see the archer precariously sprawled on the far ottoman. 

“Pipe down, you asked for it!” It was true. Clint took the first shot. 

Pulling Ro into the Science Bros’ (Tony made sure it was an official club) conversation, Tony interrupted, “I assumed your repulsors were just like mine.”

“Hell no!”

Exhibiting utter offense, Tony scoffed back, “what does that attitude mean, miss?”

“I’m not here to make copies of what you’ve done. I’m here to make things better,” Ro arrogantly elaborated before offering a slight shrug. “So, I did.” Ro was glad she kept the ice off her eyes, the expressions donning her teammates faces was downright priceless. 

“ _Better?_ ” If Tony’s sass is any indication, we have reached DEFCON 2. “Those suits are near perfection!”

“Then, mine are even closer to perfection,” Ro gently countered, greatly wanting (but not daring) to tilt her head to the side to get a glimpse of her father’s reaction. 

“Objection!” DEFCON 1. Shots have been fired. 

“Overruled,” Nat intervened. Tony and Ro’s arguments necessitated a mediator. Always. “Ro, you may continue.”

“Then, how did my suit survive the blast and yours didn’t?” Bonus points for Ro for the calm delivery. Tony gave an exaggerated sigh of defeat. “And that was only the Mark II.” Ro concealed her giddiness with a smirk as Nat and Steve smiled, utterly impressed. 

“How’d you do it?”

Tilting her head toward her dad, Ro inquired with genuine ignorance, “do what?”

“Beat your old man at his own game?”

Ro let out a light laugh despite being truly touched by Tony’s pride coated query. Of course she can’t let all that emotion show, she’s a Stark. Plopping the ice pack back over her eyes and forehead, Ro settled with a simple response. 

“I never kiss and tell.”

Insert signature smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone spot the Hunger Games and Frozen Easter eggs?


	5. Team Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do awkward encounters still count as team bonding? Ro thinks the jury’s still out especially given these _encounters_ are often between her and Buck.

Days without a Bucky incident: 12. Lord have mercy, we have set a new record.

Rowan was beginning to think that all those run ins were exclusive to her lab given there was an evident correlation between the decrease in awkward altercations and time spent on floor 55. Being done with her (flawless) presentation, Ro spent more time outside of her lab in a feeble attempt to not be described as her father: married to his lab. Bucky, on the other hand was spending more time with Wanda, desperately attempting to reverse Hydra’s conditioning to avoid another (yes, _another_ ) accidental activation. With the lab’s vacancy, Bucky incidents have been on a decline.

Fully prepared to give thanks to the universe for the cessation of said incidents, Ro was in for quite the surprise upon the realization her wishful thinking couldn’t be further from the truth. The incidents with Mr. Project overflowed into real life: no longer just in her lab.

Floor 46 was spacious. Ro and Steve each had their own rooms, bathrooms, and sitting areas while sharing a small kitchenette only accessible by residents of that floor. Rowan never took into account the guest room that was on the shared floor; not until Steve redubbed the quarters as Bucky’s new residence. Thanks for the (lack of) consultation on that decision, Steven.

The universe has taken advantage of the heightened opportunity for impressively awkward run ins. Cue the gag reel.

It began innocent enough. Rummaging through the communal kitchen to prepare a real breakfast before cooping herself in her lab, Ro desperately tried to reach a bowl on the top shelf by precariously balancing on the ledge of an opened bottom cabinet. All efforts instantaneously ceased as a metallic hand clasped around her desired bowl. 

Barely able to suppress the shock of being snuck up on, Rowan emitted a sharp cry of pain as her hair snagged between two of the articulating plates of Bucky’s prosthetic. “Ow, dammit Buck!”

“Sorry, just tryin’ to help.” His apology was sincere; but, it still didn’t change the fact that Ro was effectively tethered to the man. 

After placing the bowl down, Bucky desperately tries to free the brunette locks to no avail. Rowan gives it her best go as well. She knows they must look absolutely ridiculous - it’s taking every effort on both parts to provide any clearance between Ro’s back and Bucky’s front. His left arm is still raised in the air as three hands blindly attempt to release the strands from metallic plates encompassing his tricep. 

Letting out a ridiculously loud groan, Ro continues to slightly tug, hoping she can avoid cutting her hair, “Steve!” Ro hopes the super soldier is somewhere on the main floor within hearing distance or that FRIDAY will relay his whereabouts. 

“Rogers!” Leave it to Tony to hear Ro’s frustrated yell, “what are you doing to- Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Now Steve decides to show, of course. “I heard my- Oh.”

Well, don’t we have quite the set of articulate gentlemen?

“Oh my gosh, people,” if Ro could roll her eyes any further, she would have. “Tony, get the tiny screwdriver in the junk drawer.” Everyone has a junk drawer, don’t judge. “Barnes, stop moving, dammit!”

“Yeah, she’s not into the hair pulling.” With Nat’s addition, Ro just assumes the Universe is just creating entertainment. 

“Nat, if I wasn’t stuck right now…”

“You’d what?” The redhead had the audacity to taunt. Too early, Nat. Too early. “Swat at me?” The look of disapproval Ro shot back in response earned an amused laugh from Nat. 

“Here,” Steve walked around the island, carrying one of the tall bar stools, “here, sit so it won’t pull as bad.” The pulling wasn’t too bad; however, with the chair, at least Rowan wasn’t awkwardly tilting her body away from Bucky’s. 

Tony passed the small screw driver to Ro who began blindly feeling around for the culprit; this would only take unfastening one metallic plate before all of her hairs were accounted for. If only she had eyes in the back of her head… With a sigh of defeat, Ro relinquished the tool to Tony who, with minimal instruction, popped open the offensive prosthetic.

Slowly lowering his arm, Bucky offered yet another subtle “sorry” before passing the bowl to Rowan. 

“It’s fine,” Ro began, running her fingers through her hair, “in fact, I-”

“Liked it?”

Evidently impressed by Natasha’s dig, Steve let out a childish “ohhh” before abruptly covering his mouth. 

Tony, evidently the second man child in the kitchen currently, shoved his pointer fingers into his ears and repeated “lalala” until he was out of earshot. 

“No!” Rowan quickly jumped to defend, “I was going to say I don’t think it actually pulled my hair out.” These people were downright unbelievable. 

“Don’t deny the hair tugging until you try it for real.” As if that wasn’t enough of an insinuation, Natasha suggestively cocked her eyebrow up. 

Offering an innocent smile, Rowan softly spoke despite the bite in her words, “Barnes. Get her or I’m not fixing your arm the next time it glitches.”

Bucky glanced between Ro and Nat as if determining which lady was the more pressing threat. Having unsuccessfully arrived at a decent solution, Bucky shifted his gaze to Steve, eyes reading desperate for assistance. Steve simply raised his arms, signifying his neutrality on the subject. Smart man. After flashing a faint smile toward Rowan, Bucky lunged toward Natasha who promptly darted down the nearby staircase. 

“What the hell, Ro?” 

“Just pin her down for awhile or something,” Ro shouted over the balcony that looked over more lounging quarters. “Don’t actually hurt her!”

“You’ll pay for this, Stark!”

That was the last phrase Ro heard from Nat that day.

***   ***   ***

“Okay,” Clint reluctantly began, “sounds do-able.”

Ro was starting to get her hopes up. Way up. Not only was she able to convince Tony to morph her party into Steve’s birthday party, but Nat and Clint were now on board. Now for the tricky part. 

“Great!” Ro bit her bottom lip before turning to Nat, clasping her hands together and bringing them to her lips before continuing. “Now, there’s one more thing I’m hoping to do.”

“And if that doesn’t sound suspicious, I don’t know what does.” Natasha’s words spoke hesitance and disapproval; however, her tone spoke ‘challenge accepted.’

“Given the theme is the 40’s, there’s only one perfect answer for what Steve would wear.”

Initially both Clint and Nat nodded as if begging Rowan to continue, providing any elaboration to her evidently well-thought-out scheme. Realizing the duo wasn’t going to explicitly answer what she was begging for them to answer, Ro continued. 

“His 1940’s Army Class A’s.” The words couldn’t flow from Ro’s mouth fast enough. 

Clint’s eyes widened as Natasha let her face fall into her palms. Yep, Ro should have waited until after lunch before addressing the new party plans. These two are always more approachable on full stomachs. 

“You’re talking about a _replica_ of the Class A uniform the Smithsonian currently houses, right?” Nat spoke as if she was hoping for an affirmative. 

“Well…” Ro took a deep breath, hoping to find a conducive way of explaining her honest intent. “Why settle for a dupe when you can get the real thing?” Ro offered a weak smile.

“You’re asking us to break into the Smithsonian…” Natasha somberly spoke to which Ro hesitantly nodded.

“ _Again,_ ” Clint added to which Ro _also_ nodded. 

After huffing out a sigh of defeat, Natasha reluctantly agreed. “Fine. But only because it’s an epic idea.” 

Ro began to jump in excitement, pulling the redhead into her arms, only to be interrupted by the ping indicating the elevator’s approach. Upon identifying the unfortunately timed intruders, Clint and Natasha swiftly evacuated from the communal kitchen, leaving Ro to her breakfast preparations. 

Scoffing once the elevator doors closed with the archer and the redhead on the opposite side, Bucky spitefully asked his childhood friend, “Steve, why is everyone so damn tense around me?” 

“Well,” the blond began, evidently tip-toeing around any potential of offending Bucky. “It may have something to do with your tac gear.”

Ro unintentionally let out a light laugh. Bucky was wearing all black - boots, cargo pants, and a long sleeve t-shirt. It was highly out of the man’s norm and highly intimidating. And to make matters worse, Frozone plucked a knife out of who knows where and began twirling the weapon. Hmm...and he wonders why people put up their guard when he’s around. Unable to tell either geriatric why the two Avengers truly spontaneously left, Ro decided to go along with Steve’s hypothesis. 

“The multitude of sheathed knives doesn’t help your case,” Ro took an obnoxiously loud sip of coffee, joining the two super soldiers at the bar stools on the opposite side of the island. 

Bucky was evidently unimpressed by the observations of both Steve and Ro. That was obvious by his dramatic eye roll that could have rivaled that of a PMS-ing teenage girl. Steve utterly ignored Mr. Freeze’s charade and proceeded to prepare his breakfast (which, if anyone was being honest, would be a feast for the average person...plus leftovers). 

“What’s up with the ominous clothing selection, though?” Ro was genuinely curious. Can’t blame a girl for asking.

It was evident Buck was debating whether to give Ro an honest answer or not. “I thought this was the age of no judgement.” And evidently he elected to go for a smart ass answer. 

“Just please try and make an attempt at looking normal by forgoing the mask,” Ro nonchalantly huffed out. Steve didn’t find that jab amusing; but, before either man could provide a retort, Ro continued. “Speaking of being normal,” Ro dug into her pocket and pulled out a Stark phone (the most revolutionary of smart phones, of course). “Steve mentioned how you still don’t have a phone.”

Insert another brow furrow of disappointment from Steve. Ro really is starting to get used to those. Fortunately, the super soldier was too busy tending to sizzling bacon to provide further glaces of dissatisfaction.

“Why do I need one outside of missions?” 

Ro shot Bucky one of her best you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me looks. “To get a hold of people…” Waving the phone in front of Bucky who continued to look unimpressed, Ro finally elaborated, “if you want to go out to eat or annoy someone from afar...as in not in their lab.”

Rowan could feel Steve’s eye roll from her position on the opposite side of the island. Bucky finally took the offensive gadget and began jabbing the touch screen with no apparent goal. 

“I thought you were actually decent with technology,” Ro began, dramatically rolling her head toward Steve’s direction before continuing, “unlike capsicle over here.”

“Only things pertinent to missions,” Bucky admitted as he plucked a few buttons and proceeded to turned the device 90 degrees, pleasantly surprised upon revealing level one of Frogger. Leave it to the geriatric to inadvertently stumble upon the oldest game that can possibly be found on a smartphone while attempting to remedy a non-existent problem. 

With a loud groan, Ro snatched Bucky’s phone, “let me show you.” With a devilish smile, Ro typed in Steve’s phone number into the recipient contact before constructing a new message. 

**From: Bucky  
To: Steve**   
_Hey_

Showing the newly formed text stream to the brunette super soldier, Ro silently held a finger up to her lips, ensuring her devious acts wouldn’t be foiled by the man to her right. Hesitantly nodding, Bucky’s confusion faded as he heard the faint vibration of Steve’s phone before the blond reach into a rear pocket to identify the notification.

Ro was disappointed when Steve furrowed his brows before placing the ignored phone to the right of his currently in-use stovetop. Scrunching her nose, Ro quickly typed out an additional message and pressed send upon hearing an amused huff from Bucky who was reading over her shoulder.

**From: Bucky  
To: Steve**   
_Lookin’ good_

Leave it to the golden boy to formulate a succinct formal response. 

**From: Steve  
To: Unknown Number**   
_I think you have the wrong number._

Lame.

**From: Bucky  
To: Steve**   
_Nah, Cap. I know it’s you._

**From: Steve  
To: Unknown Number**   
_Who is this?_

**From: Bucky  
To: Steve**   
_Just an admirer of that fine ass of yours._

It took every ounce of self control for Ro and Bucky to not react to Steve’s full facial flush that extended all the way to his ears. The utterly disturbed blond abandoned all bacon prepping duties and spun on his heel to face Ro and Buck who were delivering the best poker faces.

Testing the waters for Steve’s suspicion, Ro casually spoke. “Looking a little flustered there, Steve-O.”

“Hold on.”

With a skeptical sigh, Steve donned a strict expression and furiously jabbed his phone before holding it to his ear. As soon as the blond’s gaze returned to the sizzling protein, Ro shoved Bucky’s phone back into it’s owner’s grasp just as the device began ringing. 

Rapidly connecting the dots, Steve turned around and flashed the duo that look a parent gives a kid after being called to the principal’s office. Bucky didn’t think twice before throwing Ro under the bus (like there was any debate who was the _actual_ culprit) by silently pointing a finger in her direction. Ro shrugged her shoulders as in lack of denial to which Steve smiled and shook his head. 

Bucky and Ro erupted into laughter that was probably unwarranted. 

Ro immediately stopped laughing upon realizing that she and Bucky had just been on the same side of a scheme. This wasn’t part of her grand plan. You know, the plan where she eternally hates the guy?

Bucky noticed Ro’s abrupt cessation. 

Cue awkward silence.

***   ***   ***

“Okay,” Tony hesitantly began with an edge of concern that Ro was unaccustomed to hearing from her father. “But, this doesn’t _mean_ anything, yet.”

“Well, do they know where he was moved?”

Both Starks looked toward the video projection, hoping for a response of negation from T’Challa.

“No.” Ro and Tony let out a sigh of relief before the King continued, “but, we all know it’s just a matter of time.”

“I’ll take the intel you collected to SHIELD,” Tony diplomatically replied (“Tony” and “diplomatically” are so rarely used together in the same thought; the occasion should be celebrated). “Thanks for the heads up.”

“And thank you for the vibranium,” Ro quickly added with a level of excitement that made both her dad and T’Challa smile. 

Hearing the gentle whir of the ascending elevator, the three wrapped up the video chat, knowing that the likelihood of the appropriate clearance level of the impending visitor would not suffice. 

“Alright kiddo, keep me posted with the arm’s progress.”

Ro shot Tony a look of feigned contemplation as the eldest Stark neared the elevator, “I do recall you asking if I could _assist_ you on this project. Not...take it over for you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what your talking about,” Tony joked back as he promptly stepped into the elevator, utterly ignoring Bucky who barely had time to exit before the machine began its descent. 

Wiping the smile off her face, Ro shot the super soldier a look that spoke her silent question regarding the intentions of his presence. I mean come on, they were on another roll. Days without Bucky incident: 3.

“Uh,” the brunette fumbled, shrugging his prosthetic shoulder slightly. “My arm keeps having issues.” Well, that surely was vague. 

“How so?”

“The elbow keeps randomly bending which is causing some problems with this,” Bucky held up his favorite dagger. A favorite...meaning there are numerous to choose from. Having a whole plethora of _daggers_ isn’t normal, Buck. It’s weird and intimidating. And this guy wonders why people get antsy around him.

Desperately trying not to make fun of the guy given he appears genuinely distraught, Ro slides on her stool closer to the reclined chair that has now been dubbed Bucky’s. “Step into my office.”

Obliging, Bucky makes himself comfortable by extending his prosthesis along an arm rest and allowing his mind to be pleasantly distracted by the view of the endless New York skyline. It took Ro a few moments and positions to find the source of the glitch; but, with a screwdriver in her hand and pliers clenched between her teeth, Rowan finally found the culprit. Without warning, the prosthetic elbow bends, making contact with Ro’s back, forcing her abruptly forward until the two are chest to chest. No wiggle room. Wonderful.

“Dammit, Buck!” The pliers fell to the ground as Ro grunted out a string of profanity, desperately trying (and failing) to free herself.

“This is what it keeps doing.” As Bucky spoke, Ro could feel his breath against her cheek and down her neck. This man was far too close for her liking. “It just locks up like this and after a while it releases.”

“How long is _‘a while’_?” Ro spun the screwdriver in her awkwardly positioned right hand, desperately trying to regain access to the problematic screw. She didn’t even know where to put her left hand which was currently awkwardly hovering over the chair’s cushion just above Bucky’s free right hand. Ro was internally pleading to avoid any unnecessary (awkward) hand grazes. Nothing close to resemble hand holding. No more awkwardness. Nope.

“Uh, sometimes a couple seconds,” his voice lowered as if admitting an embarrassing secret as he continued, “other times a few minutes.” 

As his voice deepened, Ro could feel the vibrations in his chest reverberate to hers. Oh, distractions. It was hard enough to focus on the next words coming out of her mouth given their current position, let alone focus on resolving the issue that _put them_ in this current position.

“Yeah, we are _not_ gonna be stuck here for a few minutes,” Ro reaffirmed. 

And if the distractions weren’t bad enough already, Bucky let out a slight laugh. A laugh that could be felt through their precarious physical contact. Ro’s chest to Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s muscular chest. And, boy, did this man before her have a lot of muscle. Focus, Ro!

“Got it,” Ro began gently twisting the screwdriver, careful not to drop the god forsaken instrument. “Right h- Shit!” Ro was forced impossibly closer to Bucky’s chest; it was honestly getting somewhat difficult to breath. From the lack of ability to expand her lungs, of course. Definitely not because of the hunk before her. Did I say hunk? I meant jerk.

With a slight twist of the screwdriver in the opposite direction, the prosthetic relaxed, allowing Bucky to release Ro from the death grip. Both readjusting in their respective seats, Bucky and Ro accidentally made eye contact to which both submitted to an awkward smile before allowing the soft gesture to morph into stifled laughter. 

“Sorry.” 

Ro very well may have missed the super soldier’s apology had she not been staring directly at him. “‘S okay.” Deciding her newfound warm feelings for the man were not according to her grand plan, Ro reoriented her focus on the prosthetic. 

“And I promise I won’t tell Steve about all that vulgarity coming from such a beautiful dame.”

He went there. Not only did Buck call her beautiful, his smirk can only be classified as a cocky smoulder. How do you fight this? With sass, my friends. With sass.

“You better watch it, I haven’t fixed your arm yet.” Believe it or not, the man’s smirk grew even more as Ro made the last few adjustments to the prosthetic. “Was he always that anal about language in the past?”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky threw his head back, smiling as he reminisced on the pre-war days. “Calling guys out for cursin’ in front of a lady is what started a good bit of his fights.” 

Ro let out a soft genuine laugh, not even wanting to hold back the positive emotions Bucky was causing. This man really was something else.

***   ***   ***

Days without Bucky incident: 0.

Mere hours after repairing the glitching prosthetic, the sun had long since set and not only was Ro asleep, she was in REM. In her lab. Draped over her tablet.

Upon realizing her relation to gravity was being gently altered, Ro roused ever so slightly, awake just enough to realize Steve was carrying her bridal style. Knowing he could easily lift her given his enhanced strength, Ro neglected to wrap an arm around his shoulders and chose to curl into his chest until they reached her room. In what felt like no time, Ro felt the tugging of her feet as Steve slipped off her shoes before pulling the covers up to her chin. 

Letting out a soft hum of comfort, Ro mumbled a nearly inaudible, “love you, Stevie.”

After an abnormally long pause, the super soldier replied, “love you, too, Ro.”

She had grown so accustomed to Steve carrying her to bed that she didn’t think anything of the gesture until breakfast the next morning. As Clint, Natasha, and Bruce ate in front of the TV in the adjacent communal living area, Steve was at the stove making his personal feast-for-two (more like four).

Walking up to the blond super soldier, Ro wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thanks for carrying me to bed last night.”

Returning the hug, Steve glanced toward Ro with a confused expression, “uh, what?”

“From lab,” Ro elaborated, stealing a sip from the blond’s coffee before continuing, “like you always do.”

Steve simply shook his head and offered, “maybe it was Tony.”

“Ha. ha.” Ro lets out a sarcastic laugh, knowing the man is messing with her, as she elects to forgo Steve’s bitter coffee and brew her own. “I know it was you, Stevie.” Snagging her favorite mug, Ro scrunches her nose and adds, “plus, that old fart would have dropped me halfway to my room.”

Offering a light laugh, Steve continued to deny his involvement; however, this time Ro noticed his genuine denial. “Maybe it was Buck?” Ro shook her head, honestly not thinking Mr. Freeze would do something that nice. “He’s always up in your lab, he’s the only other person who lives on our floor, and he’s often awake at obscure times at night.”

Thinking back on the situation, it was obvious. How could she have not realized at the time? Ro evidently must have been too tired to notice that Steve’s gait wasn’t _quite_ the same. Too tired to notice the cool sensation under her knees that Steve’s left arm usually doesn’t emit. Too tired to notice the uncharacteristic huskiness of Steve’s voice as he said “love you, too.” 

“It couldn’t have been.” Even as Ro spoke the words, she knew they were false.

Steve shrugged nonchalantly, “just ask him.”

_Love you, too._ Steve didn’t say that, then. 

Bucky did.

Oh, lord.

***   ***   ***

Ro profusely chewed on the end of her stylus as she sporadically tweaked the schematics of the new prosthetic. Her time was not efficiently utilized as her thoughts were definitively elsewhere. Mainly whether or not she should approach the brunette super soldier (currently twirling various blades) on the opposite side of her lab about the awkward encounter from the night before.

“What is it?”

The husky voice startled Ro’s intense focus on her work. Okay, not her work. Intense focus on last night. “Huh?”

“There’s obviously something on your mind.”

And of course Mr. Freeze is some sort of an expert at reading body language. Guess that’s part of the assassin’s job description. Required skills: good at reading people’s nonverbal cues and able to eliminate a target seven different ways with a ballpoint pen. Yep, sounds about right. 

“Just tinkering with this here,” Ro tapped the stylus onto the mat below the projected blueprint causing the holographic image to toggle slightly. 

“Mhm…” Safe to say Bucky evidently doesn’t believe Ro’s little fib. 

After a few moments, Ro took a deep breath, ultimately decided _here goes nothing._ “Did you carry me to bed last night?” Come on, Ro. Is subtlety _not_ in your vocabulary? Mentally scolding herself, Ro almost missed Buck’s nonchalant response - a simple nod in affirmation. 

“Why?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, once again exhibiting utter nonchalance, before replying, “same reason Steve does.” Way to deflect. Props. 

“I thought you were Steve.”

“I figured,” he replied, evidently having the audacity to flash a smirk.

What the hell does that mean, Frozone? _I figured._ Ro thought for a while before her body stilled in realization. He’s referring to the _I love you._ Oh, that minor detail. Right. How is she supposed to respond to _that_? ‘Yeah, that was awkward’ or ‘can we just ignore that happened’ or ‘why did you say it back, then?’ Nope, let’s go for peak eloquence. 

“Thanks.” Yep, that’s eloquent.

“Any time.” 

And his smirk has morphed into a genuine smile. No flirtation. No insinuations. No nothing. Just 1940’s gentlemanly chivalry. Damn.

A husky Russian curse, “dermo” emitted from Bucky shortly followed by the clanking of a knife hitting the floor prompted Ro to reorient her focus to her neighbor. Ro easily recognized the Russian from the numerous lessons Natasha taught; but, she wouldn’t reveal that nugget of information to Mr. Buck. Not yet at least.

“You know we have practice knives for that very reason, right?” Seeing the super soldier shaking off a minor cut, Ro smirked before adding, “ones that _don’t_ cut given you drop them.”

Evidently attempting to hide a smile by glancing back at Ro through those unbelievably long lashes, Buck offered a muffled response. “They don’t have the same weight as my favorites.”

“And what might your favorites be?” Ro was genuinely curious given she had created quite the dummy knife collection for the team. 

Sighing in reluctance, Bucky made his way over to Ro with the knife that had slipped from his grip (which she has catalogued in her mind for potential blackmail in the future) and placed the weapon on her table. Minimizing the holographic blueprint, Ro picked up the knife and began analyzing the peculiar blade closely. 

“Any others that you happen to be carrying around?”

Ro intended that question to be of the sarcastic variety. But, oh no. Evidently, if you ask a former assassin about current weapons on their person, they will proceed to remove an additional not one, not two, not three...hell, _seven_ knives. Yes, this man just pulled seven knives from who knows where. 

And the man had the audacity to softly add, “just a couple of my favorites.”

***   ***   ***

Gasping as if having resurfaced after being submerged underwater for hours, Ro sat bolt upright in her bed, covered in a cold sweat. It had been months since Ro had a nightmare of this severity about either her parents’ passing or about her ex who turned out to be a mistake on countless levels. Tonight’s nightmare had been different - a combination of both the plane crash that claimed her parents and the dreaded night her supposed one-and-only decided to _‘prove his ownership over her by means of physical overpowerment.’_ Those god damned words, his excuse. It was as if her brain was creating the most sadistically twisted combination of the two horrifying events. It succeeded.

Taking Steve up on his previously extended offer to find comfort in his presence upon a nasty nightmare, Ro slid out from her sweat drenched sheets, changed, and found her way down the hall to the blond’s room. 

Once stumbling her way to his bed, only stubbing her toe once, Ro nudged the super soldier on his right shoulder. “Stevie, it’s me.”

After letting out a groan in an attempt to wake himself, Steve mumbled, “‘nuther nightmare?”

“Yeah, can I-”

Before Ro could finish asking, Steve wrapped his right arm around Rowan’s torso and pulled her (lacking any grace whatsoever) over his hip and onto the open space to his left. After pulling the covers over their bodies, Steve assumed his sprawled position, ready to allow sleep to consume him once more. 

“You know you don’t even need to ask.” Ro could hear the smile in Steve’s voice despite not actually being able to see his face. 

“Thanks,” Ro reluctantly mumbled in response, “it’s just been a while.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Ro sighed, knowing Steve would respect the fact that she didn’t want to relive the unfortunate memories by recounting the nightmare despite his curiosity. “A blend of _him_ and my parents. It was awful.” Ro knew the only reason Steve would have been able to decipher her muffled words was due to his enhanced hearing. 

“You haven’t been getting enough sleep, have you?” And the mother hen has arrived. 

“I get about as much as you do.” This was her way around a direct answer. Super soldiers don’t need as much sleep as the average human. Ro knows this. 

“So, that’s a no.” And, Steve knows this as well apparently. 

Nodding in affirmation, Ro willed her body to succumb to a peaceful slumber. The night was truly restful; Ro didn’t stir until feeling a radiant warmth indicative of the sun coming through the floor to ceiling windows. Given they were privacy windows (obscuring all view from the outside in), Steve elected to forgo all window treatments. Something about the _‘serenity of waking to nature’s art - the sunrise.’_ Okay, Steven. Whatever.

Forcing her eyes shut impossibly further in a failed attempt at blocking out the remnants of light penetrating her eyelids, Ro realized Steve had migrated to her opposite side. Her nose was nestled against his spine, flanked by the rigid musculature of his back, with her right arm wrapped over his torso, held by his right hand against his bare chest. 

Ro let out a small huff of a laugh as Steve’s arm was flung over her hip, lacking any grace. Then, Ro realized she was still holding onto Steve’s right arm. And, given the man was situated on his left side, his left arm would be unable to reach her right hip. There’s an extra arm. Ro forced her eyes opened to see that Steve had brunette hair. Steve doesn’t have brunette hair. Also, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Last night, Steve was. There’s only one solution. The little spoon isn’t Steve. 

Perching up, glancing over the little spoon’s shoulder, Ro readily identifies the man by his metal arm. Bucky. She was cuddling with Bucky in Steve’s bed. Wonderful. Just when she didn’t think things between her and Mr. Project could get any more awkward. Bam. They do. And god, this man was hot. _Warm._ He was warm, temperature hot. Not that he’s not attractive… Dammit, Ro. Focus.

Tugging her right arm out from the brunette super soldier’s grasp without waking the sleeping giant, Ro was only met with a stronger grip around her frail hand as he intertwined his fingers through hers without showing any signs of waking. Attempt number two, also a fail. The arm against her hip shifted in response to her stirring prompting Ro to identify the _third_ body in this bed. Upon straining her neck uncomfortably far, Ro identified Steve, sprawled on his back with his legs precariously twisted in the sheets. Great, at least one of the beings present was expected. 

“Steve,” Ro whispered, desperately hoping that Steve’s enhanced hearing was better than Bucky’s. Or at least Steve would be closer to waking than the man within her arms. 

No response. 

“Steve!” Ro shouted...in a whisper. Whisper-shouted? Sure.

A muffled groan followed by a drawn out lazy, “shh.” He shushed her. Not acceptable.

“Steven Grant Rogers!” Ro attempted the whisper-shout again. 

Steve’s eyes shot open to reveal Ro’s highly pissed off expression. Cocking her head to the side, Ro gestured toward their third bedmate to which Steve had to stifle a laugh. He was laughing. Unacceptable, sir. 

After apparently stifling whatever the blond deemed was oh-so-funny (Ro didn’t see it), Steve answered her nonverbal question of _what the hell is this man doing in my arms?_

“He has nightmares, too. I told him he could come here if he ever needed to,” Steve offered the sympathetic puppy dog eyes before continuing, “his are more frequent than yours, almost nightly. I didn’t think about both of you...you know.” 

And suddenly Ro felt like crap. But, no. Those sentimental feelings are unacceptable when they are focused toward Bucky, Ro. Come on, lady!

“That still doesn’t change the fact that my arm is stuck,” Ro’s whisper-shout was spat out with a rather impressive amount of vehemence for the lack of volume. 

Steve shifted onto his left elbow, reaching past Ro and gently spoke in the direction of his childhood friend, “hey, Buck.”

“Don’t wake him, _dammit_!” Steve’s initial alarm prompted by Ro’s sudden urgency quickly morphed into a disapproving eyebrow raise.

“What do you want me to do,” Steve began, increasing the sarcasm the more he spoke, “just wiggle you out and never tell him about this.” Ro and Steve were becoming quite proficient in the whisper-shout. Yay, another useless skill to add to the CV.

“Uh, _yeah._ ” Ro thought that was rather obvious.

Steve just shakes his head before nudging Bucky’s right shoulder and speaking at a normal level, “Buck.”

Through an impressively long groan, Bucky released Ro’s arm, rolled onto his back, and vigorously rubbed his face sending brown locks in all directions. Cute. Like, really. It was somewhat attractive. Ro, dammit, not again. 

“Well, good mornin’, sunshine,” Ro sarcastically offered. 

“What the hell?” Bucky fluttered his eyes open, scrunching his face until his eyesight focused on Ro (with eyebrows raised rather high) and Steve (with a genuine smile). “Shit, I didn’t know you two were...uh…” the brunette pointed vaguely between Steve and Ro, evidently electing to not finish the sentence. 

“Oh, _lord,_ no!” Ro was the first to catch onto Bucky’s insinuation. 

“Well, don’t sound quite so revolted, would you?” Steve’s feigned offense wasn’t going to work on Ro who turned to Bucky to explain.

“I have nightmares and Steve told me that when they, uh, get bad, I can come in here,” Ro offered, immediately feeling the need to elaborate, “but not in a weird way.” 

Bucky nodded in what appeared to be genuine understanding before climbing out of bed shortly followed by Ro. This was awkward enough, no use staying. 

“You both don’t have to leave,” Steve whined. Literally, _whined._

Opening the bedroom door, Ro made her way into the hallway, hollering behind her, “bye, Steven.”

“You’re fine, punk,” was Bucky’s farewell as he exited shortly after Ro. 

Great. At least further awkwardness was avoided, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to write more Ro-Bucky run ins. Just _had_ to. Hope y'all enjoyed it!


	6. Aliens and A Felony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck meets some aliens, Ro and Nat perform a small heist, and Ro may or may not start, _finally_ , warming up to Mr. Freeze.

“I think we did better that time,” Ro shrugged, impressed with the work she and Nat completed. 

“Loads better,” the redhead confidently reaffirmed as the two ladies entered the elevator at the garage level. 

“FRIDAY, my floor, please,” Ro instructed the AI.

“Yes, boss.”

They had just successfully completed their minor heist to retrieve Steve’s Class A uniform from the Smithsonian. After dropping in on the exhibit, literally they entered via air vents - inspiration from Clint, they saw Bucky’s uniform and decided to snag it as well. They’re just borrowing, promise. Tomorrow is the party, then the next day, the uniforms will be returned. Hopefully the museum does not substantially increase security this time though. Last time they returned borrowed goods, Ro, Clint, and Nat almost got caught.

As the elevator doors opened, Ro and Nat’s laughter immediately faded as Steve, Bucky and Clint all turned to the ladies. It was guys’ night; however, that normally meant the rambunctious testosterone party remains on the communal floor. 

“What’re you two up to?” 

So much for just sneaking into Ro’s room without being noticed; thanks, Steve. 

“Nothing, just...uh…” Why couldn’t Ro come up with something half convincing? _Getting back from the movies?_ No, she and Nat had a massive duffle that would throw up a red flag, revealing her fib. _Just finishing up some training?_ That wouldn’t explain why she and Nat were dressed in solid black, head to toe, including hats and masks that were now bunched around their necks.

“Coming back from a mission,” Natasha confidently spoke. Ro slowly nodded, hoping Steve would elect to ignore the fact that Ro never went into the field. 

“A mission?” And, he didn’t buy it.

“A _personal_ mission,” Ro adamantly added to which Nat nodded in agreement. Bam.

“What’s in the bag?” Dammit, Steve. It’s your 1940’s Class A’s. Stop asking questions. 

“Nothing that concerns you.” Of course Nat couldn’t keep her sass to herself.

Having paused the movie, Steve rose from his position on the couch and, passing Clint and Bucky, made his way toward Ro and Nat as if planning on inspecting the bag. They did look highly suspicious and Ro was known to not make the most calculated decisions at times. But, Ro and Nat could not let the party secret be blown. Yet. 

“Just let them have their fun, Cap,” Clint, fully aware of the stunt Ro and Nat were executing, laughed out in an attempt to deflect Steve.

“Well, now I definitely know you two are up to something,” Steve began as he took a lap around Nat and Ro as if preparing to chastise two teenagers who returned home without any regards to curfew. “Specifically, something you don’t want me knowing about.”

Ro let out a sharp laugh before snarkily replying, “can’t say that’s a lie.” Dammit, Ro. Don’t admit it. Nat, rightfully, rolled her eyes. Ro would make for the worst interrogation partner.

Clenching the black duffle closer to her body as Steve took a purposefully intimidating step toward her, Ro was fishing through her thoughts, desperately trying to find a way out of this one. Flee? Steve’s faster. Fight? Steve’s stronger. But, she would have Nat and Clint on her side. But, Bucky. The wild card. Unless…

“Eto davlenie dlja Steve.” _[It’s a surprise for Steve.]_ Ro felt she could barely get the words out fast enough; however, it was quick enough for Steve to cease his advances. Bucky, rising from his position on the couch and making his way towards the potential altercation, donned a contemplative expression. 

“Vi dolzani mne.” _[You owe me.]_ Bucky had the audacity to demand in negotiation.

Ro raised her eyebrows as if to say _hell, no._ Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and gave an impressive smirk before shrugging his shoulders before slowly making his way back to the couch. Was he seriously not going to help? Or was he bluffing? Damn, Ro couldn’t tell. Ro glanced toward Nat who widened her eyes as if nonverbally saying _do something, dammit._

Reluctantly Ro agreed, “fine.”

“Stevie,” Bucky spoke gently, spinning on his heel to turn back towards his childhood friend who once again looked rather confused. “This isn’t a battle you want to pick.” Steve shot his friend a look that managed to exhibit both surprise and confusion. “Trust me, Stevie.” 

Of course Bucky knew Steve was a sucker for the nickname. Rolling his eyes, the blond super soldier reluctantly made his way back to the couch allowing Nat and Ro to scurry toward Ro’s bedroom at the far end of the hall. 

“Sounds like someone’s been practicing their Russian,” Nat spoke with a level of pride in her voice as she closed the door behind the two ladies. “I’m impressed.”

“I did learn from the best,” Ro offered a toothy smile to the redhead who didn’t have time to respond before the door shot open without any inkling of a warning. “Dammit, Barnes. Ever heard of knocking?”

“What’s this surprise for Steve?” Well, just get right to the point, why don’t’cha?

Ro sighed at Bucky’s unwavering stance, arms once again folded across his broad chest with eyebrows raised in evident disapproval of having to wait any longer. 

“The party tomorrow,” Ro waited for the super soldier to nod in affirmation before continuing, “it’s not for me. It’s really Steve’s birthday party.”

Bucky offered a slight smile, appreciating the gesture Ro evidently secretly concocted. “But, what’s in the bag?”

“That,” Ro began, walking toward Bucky, placing a hand on his back to prompt him to exit her room, “is also a secret for you. Keep your phone close by tomorrow; follow my instructions then.”

Bucky looked as if he had a multitude of questions; however, none of which were able to escape his lips before Ro gently shut the door, leaving the unsuspecting super soldier in the hall.

***   ***   ***

The day had arrived; July 4th, Steve’s birthday. The blond was still utterly oblivious about the true reason for the celebrations later that evening; he was still under the impression Tony was hosting a party in honor of Ro’s presentation. Perfect.

“I’m still waiting for these _instructions_ of yours,” Bucky had snuck up on Ro while she was flipping the french toast for Steve’s birthday breakfast. 

Everyone agreed to rise early in the hopes of waking before their Captain to ensure a perfect meal was prepared. But, Steve always got up so damn early. Like, 5:00 A.M. early. Old timer. So, Sam agreed to distract the man on an abnormally long morning run as a means of stalling for everyone else to become properly caffeinated prior to the birthday boy’s arrival. 

“You didn’t get my text?”

Bucky pulled his smart phone out of his back pocket and handed the device to Ro as he shook his head. With a quick glance, Ro immediately saw the problem, let out a sigh of disappointment, then proceeded to methodically tap the screen before passing the phone back to its owner. 

**To: Bucky  
** From: Dr. Stark (Yes, Ro programmed her own name into his phone.)  
_Meet at the conference room at 10:00 A.M._

“You had it on airplane mode.”

“ _Airplane mode?_ ”

“Gah, you really are as ancient as Steve.” Ro shook her head as Buck immediately leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest in preparation for his defense; however, he was cut off by the ding of the elevator shortly followed by Steve entering the communal kitchen.

In the midst of various ‘happy birthday’ and ‘good morning’ exclamations, Steve made his way around the group, dishing out a generous heaping of hugs. Bucky was evidently disappointed when his hug consisted of a half hearted one-armed embrace that left a bitter aftertaste of rejection. Ro thought the truncated exchange was odd; however, her shoulder was squeezed in an odd form of affection from Steve before any more thought could be yielded to the exchange. That’s when Ro noticed he was still wearing the sweatpants he normally wore to bed, not wearing his running gear. Hmm, maybe he showered and changed? But, his hair wasn’t wet. And, what was up with the shoulder squeeze, Gramps?

“How was your run?” Ro decided to indirectly inquire about her probably unnecessary worry-filled analysis. 

“Given the holiday, figured the ol’ Cap could take a day off,” Steve arrogantly huffed out before snagging a piece of bacon and making his way to the coffee machine. Steve always insists on his run...and making sure everyone is served before himself. 

“He’s acting odd.”

Ro jumped, not having heard Bucky’s approach until the man whispered not one foot behind her. But, it was as if the brunette soldier read her mind. Giving a subtle head nod in response, Ro didn’t break her gaze from Steve who was now adding creamer to his coffee. Steve takes his coffee black. Bitter.

Smirking, Ro finally connected the dots. 

“So,” Ro spoke, purposefully garnering the blond super soldier’s attention, “did your brother make the trip to Midgard as well?” Ro ensured her voice was loud enough to capture the attention of the rest of the room’s inhabitants and with adequate sass that would impress the Stark lineage. 

“I, uh,” Steve hesitantly began, looking around the room only to be met by similar gazes of confusion, “I beg your pardon.”

“You may be fooling them; but, you’re not fooling me,” Ro offered before flashing a wink toward Steve who took a hesitant sip of coffee. The tension in the room was evident and reeked of awkwardness.

After realizing he wasn’t going to fool Ro any longer, the blond set the mug down and sauntered toward Ro, slowly morphing into his true form. “What gave it away?” Loki.

Laughing as she accepted a hug from the God a Mischief, Ro only offered, “well, if I told you then that’d take all the fun away.” 

“What’s he doing here?” Thank you, Tony, for reminding Ro that the remainder of the team is still recovering from the shock. 

“Well, of course I sent an invitation to Thor,” Ro picked up the frying pan to dump the golden French toast onto the platter before continuing, “and I’m assuming by this guy’s presence,” waving the spatula in Loki’s direction, Ro finished, “Thor’s still babysitting.”

“I will have you know, that I-” 

Utterly interrupting Loki, Clint nearly whined out, “and, why are you here with your magic?” 

“We’ll only be staying a mere two days,” Loki explained with a devilish smirk, “can’t possibly cause too much trouble in such short time.”

“Oh,” Ro began with as much sarcasm as she could muster, “two days is two more than you need to cause trouble.” 

Clint stormed off as if personally offended by the god’s presence. Can you blame the guy, though? There is history there.

“Um,” Bucky began, evidently still traumatized from the unfolding of recent events. Specifically his childhood friend morphing into a medieval looking Brit.

“Oh,” Ro began as if she neglected her hostess duties by lacking formal introductions. Turning to Bucky she gestured toward Loki, “Buck, this is Loki, Thor’s brother-”

“Adopted.”

Ignoring the growl of an interruption from the raven haired man, Ro turned toward Loki and gestured toward Bucky, “Loki, this is Bucky, my project.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as Loki looked between Ro and Bucky as if there was some cultural misunderstanding he missed. 

“And, my childhood friend,” Steve added, making his way from the recently arrived elevator with Sam, Thor, and Sif in tow. Ro smiled and shook her head at Cap’s chastisement before the blond super soldier (yes, the real one this time) continued, “after our run, Sam and I ran into Thor and Sif who were busy looking for Loki.” 

“Brother,” Thor began, walking up to Loki, effectively forcing his back into the nearest counter, “what mischief have you been conjuring?”

“I am not your-”

“Not much,” Ro nonchalantly elaborated, “just pretending to be the Captain.” Shrugging, Thor took it upon himself to remind Loki of their contingencies for not ridding the god of his magic for the party. The next couple of days were sure to be entertaining. 

As everyone made their way to the table, Ro managed to gain everyone’s attention, “alright, we have a few last minute party things that need to be finalized. Nat and Clint, have you two finally agreed on specialty cocktails?”

Nat let out a loud groan as Clint took it upon himself to respond, “we’ve only been able to narrow it down to eight.” Sam and Bruce nearly saw their mouthfuls of food for a second time from scoffing at Clint’s perceived predicament. 

“That’s fine, make sure the bartender gets those, and-”

“Wait,” Tony cut Ro off, “why not another open bar?”

Through communal groans, Steve and Bruce could be heard clearly voicing their disapproval. The three out of towners and Bucky didn’t understand the vehemence of the group’s current discussion; so, Sam and Wanda took it upon themselves to recount the absurdities that occurred when you have a party of 250 and unlimited booze. 

Within six minutes, a compromise was reached. Specialty cocktails and beer only until the headcount is down to 30 (typically indicative of the after party), then the bar opens up. The theory was 30 highly inebriated people can be easily housed in the tower to ensure safety. 

“Tony and Bruce,” Ro sighed, glad to have finally moved on from the debate with her father regarding the alcohol, “no experiments are to be remotely run during the party.” Both men nodded, Bruce more definitively than Tony. “ _Any_ experiments. No more robot party fouls, ‘kay?”

After receiving an exaggerated nod from Tony, Ro continued, “lastly, clothes.” Clint literally vibrated in his seat with excitement, only subdued when viciously elbowed by Natasha. That guy was going to blow the surprise, dammit. “Steve, the tailor needs to take some measurements.”

“Didn’t I have some taken from the last party.” Why does this man have to question everything? It’s not a mission, Stevie, just do as the lady says. 

“Yeah,” Ro began, scrunching her nose and waving her fork in the air as Steve topped off his coffee before making his way back to the table, “something about you putting on a few pounds since then.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and tousles Ro’s hair before taking his seat. After flashing him a look of disapproval (I mean she still had a degree of bedhead; however, it’s still not nice to mess with a lady’s hair. Didn’t your ma teach you that, Stevie?), Ro turned toward Bucky, “you also need to be sized at some point today.”

“Isn’t this normally done well before the event?” Leave it to Steve to fully dig into her grand plans. No, Steve, because there’s a massive surprise for you that necessitated waiting until the same freaking day! Of course, she can’t say that, though. 

“Well, I kind of forgot about the new addition,” Ro shrugged, feigning her forgetfulness as she gestured toward Bucky.

“Can’t I just wear one of Steve’s?” Damn you, stubborn 40’s men.

“And, look like you’re wearing hand-me-downs?” Thank you, Nat, for the save. 

“Not to one of my notorious parties!” Bonus points for Tony, too.

Still looking like Bucky may argue the point further, Ro shot him a sharp look with her lips drawn tight and eyebrows heightened, ensuring to block the gesture from Steve’s view. After a while the brunette super soldier agreed which prompted Steve to deliver a surprised expression.

***   ***   ***

Upon receiving a text from the tailor, Ro rushed to the conference room that had been booked for last minute fittings for party attire.

Barging into the room in anticipation of trying on her 40’s inspired dress that she had yet to even see (she put all of her faith in Eli, the tailor, who custom made many dresses for her throughout the years). Immediately, Ro realized she probably should have knocked as Bucky stood on the pedestal, facing away from the door as the tailor inserted a few pins and chalk markings to his uniform. 

“Oh, uh…” Very eloquent, Rowan. You’ve seen a man in a suit before, pull yourself together and stop blubbering, dammit!

“Rowan!” The tailor moved to give her an enthusiastic hug, fortunately breaking the awkward tension that Ro appeared to bring into the room. “I have to say how great of an idea it was to have the guys wear their Class A’s.” Eli threw his hand over his heart, genuinely impressed. 

“Speaking of, where did you even get these?” Bucky smiled as he turned toward Ro and Eli, taking off his hat, tossing it gracefully to the side, and running his flesh hand through his hair. A man in uniform. Oh, hot damn. 

“We’re just borrowing them, don’t get too attached,” Ro settled with that version of the story. 

“ _Borrowing_?” Bucky sounded almost offended as he stepped off the pedestal and made his way closer to the duo, “they’re mine and Stevie’s!” 

The tailor gave Ro a knowing look to which she fessed up, “okay, Nat and I are _borrowing_ them from the Smithsonian.”

“Rowan Stark, you are going to be the death of me, lady. Not only did you just confess in front of me but now you have me working on stolen goods…”

The tailor continued his rant, periodically dropping ‘accomplice’ and ‘plausible deniability’ as Bucky flashed a genuine smile which really looked good on him. But, no. Ro, focus. 

“Okay,” Eli finally gained composure and all but shoved Ro behind the small room divider composed of three narrow partitions. “Ro, your dress is right there,” the tailor pointed to a garment bag hanging before continuing his instruction, “change into that so I can make sure it fits well.”

“I have no doubt it will fit perfectly,” Ro flashed the tailor a smile she reserves for buttering people up. The tailor saw right through it and cocked an eyebrow up before turning to the other individual in the room. 

“As for you, Sergeant, we’re done with the jacket and the shirt,” Eli began as he helped Buck shimmy out of the jacket ensuring the pins wouldn’t poke the man. “Shirt and tie, too,” with no shame, the tailor gestured for the Buck to continue stripping, “now do you have appropriate shoes?”

“Um,” Bucky hesitated. Per his standards of appropriate shoes, sure. But, Eli’s asking, so probably not?

“Yes!” Ro nearly shouted from behind the divider, almost done with her own feat. “They’ll be in your room by this afternoon.”

Buck shrugged in pleasant surprise while Eli continued on as if Rowan’s omniscience was typical. “Now for the pants,” the tailor walked around Bucky, staring at the man intently, “well, you’ve definitely put on some muscle back here.” Ro desperately tried to stifle her laugh. Only if she could see Bucky’s reaction to Eli’s shameless remark. 

“Think you’ll be able to get all this done?”

“Miss. Stark,” Eli began with evident offense, “are you doubting my abilities?”

“No,” Ro nearly laughed out, “just acknowledging the lack of time I gave you after the necessary heist.”

“Allow me to plead ignorance; tell me no more, Miss. Ro.”

Ro laughs at Eli’s adamant nature regarding her acquisition of the uniforms as she steps out from behind the divider wearing one of Eli’s best creations to date. Falling in a rough A-line of blue and white polkadots, the gorgeous dress cinched flawlessly around her waist, accentuating her strong but feminine physique and revealed a modest halter neckline. 

Bucky lets out an involuntary audible gasp which prompts Ro to follow the sound, allowing her gaze to fall upon the brunette super soldier who not only has an expression of sheer awe, but is shirtless. And, damn was he a sight for sore eyes. Ro wasn’t sure how long the two stood, silently staring at one another. She’s assuming it was an inappropriate amount of time solely based upon Eli’s interruption.

“Well,” the tailor began with an impressive amount of sarcasm, “you two aren’t awkward at all.”

“Alright, Sam, I’ll catch you later.”

Ro, Bucky, and Eli froze, mouths agape, upon hearing Steve’s voice just on the other side of the door. I mean, Ro was internally thankful she and Bucky didn’t have to scramble out of the awkward pit they just dug themselves into; however, Steve is _right_ outside. 

“He’s early for his sizing,” Eli whisper shouted, desperately trying to find a solution. There was a knock on the door prompting Eli to nudge Ro and Buck toward the room divider, “you two behind the curtain. I’ll see if he can just come back later.” Just before Ro was concealed by the partitions as Bucky was, Eli tossed her Bucky’s uniform jacket, shirt, and hat the soldier had left in plain sight. 

“Hey, Eli!” Hearing Steve’s voice so close, Bucky and Ro, with an armful of pin filled clothing, froze once more as if the divider would fail to conceal them.

“Captain,” the two heard Eli return, “great to see you; but, I seem to be otherwise preoccupied. Can we reschedule by chance?”

“I have a meeting with Fury in an hour at the downtown office; but, I should be back by 3,” Steve added hesitantly, “will that give you enough time?”

“Given the party’s at 5, unfortunately, no,” Eli was clearly trying to make something work; but, Bucky and Ro exchanged worried glances. 

“Would adjustments even be necessary, I wore that last suit not four months ago?”

“Ah,” Eli began as Ro and Bucky heard him shuffling about, “you know Miss. Rowan; she has her own dress code for the party.” Given the look of confusion on the blond’s face, Eli elected to elaborate. “Let’s just say you won’t be wearing the last suit. Let’s get those measurements.”

Ro rolls her eyes knowing that she and Bucky are going to be stuck there for a while. In utter silence. Startled by a small jab by one of the tailor’s pins threaded in the jacket, Ro jumped slightly. Bucky caught on and silently shifted the two pin-filled garments to the nearby chair directly behind him. 

Mouthing a silent “thank you,” Ro put the uniform hat onto Bucky’s head prompting him to offer a gentle smile. Tilting her head as if analyzing the view, Ro scrunched her nose and shook her head, removed the hat and tousled his long locks. There was something about that hair that just shouldn’t be covered. 

Smiling as he looked down toward Ro, Bucky silently mouthed, “you look beautiful.” 

Rowan’s entire body seemed to be affected by the man’s genuine smile: her cheeks flushed, her breath hitched in her throat, that fluttering in her stomach was overpowering, and her knees became weak. It’s been so long since a man has made her feel this way. Yeah, her teammates compliment her; but, this was different. Very different. Standing there in silent shock, Ro’s mind was unable to compute something semi intelligible to silently mouth back. 

“You too.” _You too?_ Seriously, Ro? The man is wearing nothing but a pair of tan slacks and she just called the man beautiful. I mean the view before her was stunning with impeccable musculature sprinkled with the convoluted twisting of scar tissue demarcating the joining of flesh and metal of which Ro had become rather intrigued. But, _you too?_

Fortunately the man smiled as Ro shook off her facial flush and returned the smile. As Steve and Eli continued their mindless small talk, Ro and Bucky were now having an exquisite time stifling their laughter. As long as she could just get through these next few minutes without embarrassing herself further. Crossing fingers and saying prayers.

***   ***   ***

Exiting her room with a large white box precariously balanced on her hip, Ro gently closed her door to quietly make her way to Steve’s room. Time for the big surprise. As planned, Bucky met her in the hallway, easily plucking the box from her grip before gently grasping her hand to initiate a twirl.

“Beautiful,” the super soldier whispered as if speaking his confessional last rites.

Ro was left breathless. Not knowing how to respond, utterly struck dumb by the combination of Buck’s gesture and appearance, Ro settled for a slight, albeit involuntary, laugh. With a genuine smile, Bucky slowly released Ro’s hand as he nodded his head toward Steve’s door. 

“We should…”

“Yeah.” Eloquent, Ro. Very eloquent.

Ro desperately willed her facial flush to vacate before Steve responded to her gentle knock. As the door swung open, Steve’s stern expression (probably in anticipation of chastising Ro for making him wait to get dolled up) was immediately replaced with a mixture of confusion and utter awe as his eyes scanned every inch of Bucky and Ro. 

Taking pity on the blond, Ro interrupted Steve’s silent mouth gaping with feigned nonchalance, “we got you a little something for your birthday.”

Bucky relinquished the large white box as he and Ro followed Steve into his room, looking for the exact moment of recollection on Steve’s face upon identifying the contents. A slight hitched breath as the pad of his thumb scanned the Howling Commandos insignia on the jacket was preceded by the curl of Steve’s lips as he gently spoke as if still in disbelief. 

“Is this…?”

“Yours,” Ro confirmed, “the real one.” If anyone asked if tears were shed, all three would profusely deny. Steve just has something in his eye. And so does Ro. And Buck. Really.

“How?” 

“Well,” Bucky began with a slight laugh, “Ro and Nat completed a small heist-” Abruptly cut off by Ro’s elbow into his rib accented with a sharp look, Bucky corrected himself, “we’re just borrowing them from the Smithsonian.” 

Steve shoots Ro a glare which is promptly smothered as Ro all but shoves the man and the box into the bathroom with strict commands to get dressed...and don’t think too much. After explaining the elaborate party switcheroo, readjusting Steve’s tie...twice, and withstanding the sheer quantity of eyes staring at the trio as they entered for the big reveal, Ro was thankful to be ushered toward the _nerd group_ (dubbed by Clint) to discuss _nerd things_ (also dubbed by Clint).

The guest list had evidently gotten out of hand since Rowan’s approval. Thanks, Tony. With the profuse consumption of alcohol greatly diminishing both the quality of intelligent conversations and the inhibitions of handsy friends of friends of friends, Ro retreated to her safe haven - lab 55.

***   ***   ***

Ro mindlessly flicks her wrist to the left, rotating the holographic image of the prosthetic clockwise as she takes the last sip of her champagne. With a fresh bout of inspiration, Ro slips off her heels, letting them carelessly settle next to her stool, as she picks up the stylus and begins her tweaking.

“That looks interesting.”

The sudden voice indicative of an unannounced intruder causes Ro to jump and less than gracefully swivel in her chair. “Lord, Buck,” taking a deep breath, allowing her concerns to subside upon the ready identification, Ro continues, “what are you doing here?”

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he replies, handing Ro a new glass of champagne. 

“Eh,” Ro begins, trying to remain nonchalant, “some drunk was getting a little too handsy for my liking.” Purposefully changing the subject, Ro raises her glass as if to toast and offers a quiet, “thanks,” before taking a sip.

“You could have told m-someone. Like Steve or Tony.” Bucky’s stern expression laced with concern didn’t slip past Ro.

“I know,” Ro offered a genuine smile, understanding the extended offer of assistance, “just didn’t want to cause a scene. Supposedly he knew Sam,” Ro shrugged, evidently skeptical of the man’s association, “but FRIDAY made sure he left in a cab. Plus,” Ro spun back toward the holographic image before continuing, “I find this way more interesting than being surrounded by drunken strangers.”

Taking occasional swigs from his beer, Bucky silently observes Ro tweaking various components, taking note how she pinches her bottom lip between her teeth and squints her eyes in complete focus. The super soldier doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until she asks a subtle question without breaking her focus. 

“You drink beer relatively frequently, right?”

“Uh, yeah sometimes with Steve,” he hesitantly responds. “Why?”

Ro doesn’t answer but continues to alter the angle of a small gadget situated on the lateral portion of the thumb. Bucky huffs out a laugh as he recognizes the device. 

“Is that a bottle opener?”

“Well,” Ro begins, entertained by her own creativity, “I figured if you have to live with this thing, might as well make it more than a weapon.”

Bucky just laughs in response, nodding his head in silent approval before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Any gadget requests?”

“Looks like you have it covered pretty well,” Bucky steps closer to Ro, leaning against the table directly to her right, “any other practical ideas you’ve thought of?”

“Well, if this was for me, a space heater would be a necessity,” Ro laughs, to which Bucky can’t contain a smile. 

“This one actually gets rather warm when I use it a lot.”

Nodding, Ro explains, “since it’s just the prototype, I didn’t add the coolant system. Your new one will have the same system that I added to Tony’s suits.” Ro toggles the hologram and opens the bicep region before inquiring, “anything else?”

Leaning forward, enough that his leg brushes against Ro (which Ro _definitely_ doesn’t even notice and _definitely_ doesn’t need to mentally chastise herself for the thoughts that motion elicited), Bucky points to the opened bicep area with his beer bottle. “What’s that?”

Sighing in uncertainty, Ro hesitantly responds, “don’t get too excited. That may not make the cut. I, uh, thought of this idea to have a retractable blade that’s solely controlled via neural stimulation.”

“Seems like an odd location.”

Nodding slowly, Ro takes a sip of her drink then decides to go for a blunt explanation. “Perfect location to severe the jugular vein or carotid artery of an opponent you have in a choke hold.” Bucky still has a slight look of confusion, so Ro takes another approach, “here, put your arm around me.”

Hesitantly setting his drink down, Bucky allows Ro to position him behind herself with his metallic prosthetic gently draped around her neck as if in a choke hold. As Ro straightens her back to increase her height given she is still sitting on her stool, she’s immediately distracted by the strong body against her back. Warm and sturdy. She feels protected which she immediately throws the thought away as absurd given the positioning of his arm. Even then, she still isn’t worried. Not in the slightest. 

Attempting to shake away her thoughts (how long has she just been silently sitting there? C’mon Ro!), Ro crawls her fingers around his prosthetic arm, tapping on a cloth covered plate wrapping around his artificial bicep. Have his arms always been this strong? Of course they have, she made the damn thing; she should know. Deep breath, Ro. 

“In theory, you’d be able to control a blade from retracting right here,” she taps the plate again. “So, with just a simple _thought_ , you’d have a blade severe your opponent’s vital vessels, rendering them dead.”

Bucky immediately releases Ro, taking a step back as if having been scalded and looking toward Ro with concern as if he really did have a knife held against her throat mere seconds ago.

“While it’d be good in certain situations, I have two major reservations.” Ro waits for Bucky to nod before continuing, “I don’t know how easy it’d be to trigger. Think when a muscle twitches when you dream - this may do the same. You could end up nicking yourself in the side,” Ro gently brushes her fingers against the lateral portion of Bucky’s ribs underneath the prosthetic. 

Ro was immediately surprised when she could feel the differentiation between musculature and scarring despite the layers of dress clothes. Naturally, her mind drifted, allowing the sense of sight to take over, recalling what the definable ridges look like from their rather eventful time with the tailor. But, her mind drifted back to her sense of touch. Behind the room dividers, they both ensured to maintain proper clearance between their bodies; however, what would it have felt like to trace the defined ridges of muscle and scar, flesh and metal? 

The coolness of Bucky’s metal fingers against her upper arm immediately vacated her trance, leaving Ro to suddenly realize her bottom lip was held captive between her teeth. Ro’s eyes darted toward Bucky’s, utterly hoping that he was somehow unaware of the incredible weight of the sexual tension in the air and the stammering of her heart. While their arms were still precariously aligned, Buck’s eyes were closed and mouth slightly ajar in what appeared to be pure bliss. 

Rowan took what felt like minutes to gain some composure and logically analyze the situation. Logic. That is all she could rely on now given her emotions were so far gone - halfway around the world. Like to Paris, the city of romance. Wait. Sexual tension? Romance? This is Bucky, Steve’s childhood friend, Ro’s project. These feelings are not-

“What’s the second?” Bucky’s voice, although shockingly gently, caused an abrupt cessation in Ro’s thoughts.

“Huh?” 

“You said you had _two_ reservations for the gadget.” He offered a subtle smile, as if understanding what was going through Ro’s mind right now and gently coaxing it back to reality. How the hell did he know what was going through her mind? She didn’t even know.

“Right,” Ro recovered, not entirely trusting whatever scrambled remnants remained of the pathway between her brain and mouth. “The second,” think, dammit. Ro spins to the holographic image to jumpstart any intellect still in her mind. Prosthetic. Gadgets. Bicep. Neurally stimulated knife. Right. “The second concern would be during training. If you hold a teammate in a choke hold while sparring, you’d in essence be holding a knife to their throat the entire time, one wrong slip…”

Well, that’s one way to diffuse sexual tension. Congrats, Rowan. 

“I don’t want it.”

He doesn’t want what? Her? Dammit, Ro, the gadget. He doesn’t want the knife. So much for thinking the sexual tension diffused. 

With a few clicks of her stylus and wafts of her hand, the schematic for the knife crumpled into itself and landed into a holographic trash can before disappearing entirely. She liked the visual, don’t judge. 

“Consider it gone,” Ro offered with a smile to which Bucky readily returned as he picked up his drink and settled to Ro’s right once more, their legs ever so slightly touching. Damn. Focus.

As Ro downed the remainder of her champagne (of course she’s not desperate for liquid courage, psh), Bucky posed another inquiry. “What about the, uh, colors?”

Realizing the man assumed the color coding on the hologram was an actual representation of the final prosthesis, Rowan decided to run with the assumption. 

“Well, I was modelling it after the team colors,” Ro offered, desperately trying to retain laughter. 

“Team...colors?” He buys it. Perfect.

“Yep,” Ro began pointing to various swaths of color on the projected prosthesis, utterly making things up as she went, “blue for Steve, red for Wanda, purple for Clint, green for Bruce…” Unable to maintain the charade due to the look of sheer horror on Bucky’s face upon having been told he’ll have to live with a gaudily painted arm for the remainder of his life, Ro cracks. 

“I’m totally messing with you,” Ro tosses her head back in laughter, “these are just the colors that correspond to my blueprints, nothing more.”

“Lady, you’re going to be the death of me,” shaking his head, Bucky can’t help but smile at Ro’s jovial jab.

“This is what the color will look like,” Ro zooms in on the image after various clicks. “The exterior of your arm will be _kinda_ like chainmail but on a microscopic level. The silver here,” Ro points to a small ball bearing looking device, “is plain vibranium; and, this,” Ro gestures to another enlarged piece, “is vibranium fused with a self-made polymer that will give the metal a unique pliability; but, the combination also alters the color to black.” Waving her hand, Ro zooms out from the nanomolecular level, “so, overall it’ll be dark grey.”

Bucky walks around to Ro’s left, taking the realistic visual of the prosthetic in at a variety of angles. Ro tries to ignore the fact that she misses his closeness. Desperately tries. 

“Where are the plates?”

“No plates,” Ro smiles, excited to show off her newest creation, “watch this.” Ro clicks a few buttons and slowly advances her stylus, point first, toward the projected prosthesis. As the tip nears the arm, the nano-chainmail parts in a fluid manner, as does oil when exposed to water, readily allowing the stylus to enter the inner workings of the prosthetic. “That’s how I’ll get into the arm and work on internal components. Only tools that I make specifically for your prosthesis can penetrate.”

Bucky nods in evident amazement before leaning against the table and tapping his empty bottle against his forearm, “will it feel like this one?”

“How the new exterior will feel,” Ro gently grazes her fingers along the metallic forearm as she continues, “and how your brain will perceive sensation will be completely different than this version.”

Behind the smirk Bucky flashes is a slight sense of curiosity to which Ro simply responds, “you’ll see what I mean. Can’t reveal all the tricks yet.”

Bucky gives a slight hum back in response as Ro saves and closes the updated blueprints before swiveling in her chair to face the super soldier. When did he get so close to her? I mean, not that Ro’s complaining.

“Sounds like the craziness has wound down a bit. What do you say we join the after party?”

“After party?” 

“Oh, you didn’t think Tony would be done by 11?” Ro flashed a knowing smirk as she slipped her heels back, only swaying a slight bit as the alcohol hit her at once upon standing.

Bucky places an arm on Ro’s shoulder, ready to stabilize if need be yet not encroaching on personal space. Which she wouldn’t mind. Wait, what? 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ro shook her head at her internal monologue, “you know, most of us aren’t immune to alcohol like you.”

Giving an impressive look of disapproval, Buck lowers his voice, asking, “how much have you had?”

“Four glasses,” Ro nods her head toward the two empty champagne flutes Bucky gathered as they both walked to the elevator (unassisted, thank you very much). “But, over a decent amount of time. I’m good.” Ro emphasizes by holding out both of her arms and walks in a straight line into the elevator.

Laughing at the charade, Bucky dons a rich drawl, “yeah, I’m cuttin’ ya off.”

“Do I even want to know how much you’ve had?”

“Only two,” Bucky holds up his hands as if feigning defense; however, the gesture is lost by the two empty flutes in one hand and the empty bottle in the other. Ro just laughs at the sight.

“We should get you some of Thor’s Asgardian liquor,” Ro nudges Bucky in the side and suggestively raises her eyebrows, “we’d get to see what kind of drunk you are. Humorous drunk? Emotional drunk?”

“I’d like to think I’m always humorous!”

Through a laugh, Ro raises her hand to declare an epiphany, “you’d be a flirtatious drunk, that’s it.”

Bucky nods his head and laughs in half-hearted agreement before somberly adding, “I’ve tried some strong stuff in the past, though. Nothing can do it,” realizing the air within the descending lift was taking a depressive turn, he added, “but, I’m thinking you’d be an entertaining drunk.”

“I have no filter when I’m drunk,” Ro blushingly admitted, “so, while I guess it can be entertaining, it’s been known to get me in trouble.”

Once against laughing, Buck retorted, “I didn’t realize you had a filter when you were sober.”

“You have no idea what I keep to myself.”  

That was enough to promote both to erupt into laughter. Laughter that morphed into an overall euphoric high both submitted to, elicited from the positive energy of the other. Preventing another potentially awkward bout of sexual tension, the elevator doors opened. Thank you, FRIDAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, there is more party written. A lot more party. (And, there could have been so much more..had to hold myself back.) I'm hoping to post party 2.0 within the next few days.
> 
> Until then, here're the party outfits for Rowan, Buck, and Steve:
> 
>  
> 
>   
>   
> 


	7. Finding Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dance (or four), a kiss, and a load of embarrassment.

The party, which had dwindled to approximately 35 guests, gravitated to the two story communal living area. Most were gathered around the bar, which Ro assumed was now fully opened, and the nearby dancefloor which exhibited quite the array of dance styles. As Ro and Bucky made their way to Steve and Sharon who were each atop a barstool, a group of veterans immediately pulled Steve and Bucky aside. 

After climbing onto Steve’s now vacant seat, Ro placed her order then not-so-subtly spun toward Sharon. “So,” cocking her eyebrows up in a highly suggestive nature, Ro continued, “has he asked you yet?”

“Asked me what?”

Rolling her eyes, Ro all but yelled at the lady, “asked you out!” I mean, obviously.

“Oh,” Sharon shrugged, trying to exhibit carelessness that utterly failed to reach her eyes, “no.”

“He’s too nervous, he wants to though,” Ro egged on, taking a sip of the newly acquired cocktail that was a rather striking gradient of red and yellow. Seeing the two guys make their way back (damn, that was a short chat, little time for scheming), Ro leaned over to Sharon and whispered, “I have an idea.”

Before Sharon could protest, Bucky interrupted with feigned offense, “I thought I told you I was cutting you off?”

“Buck off,” Ro scrunched her nose before adding, “pun intended.” Making sure Steve was out of earshot and dropping her volume to ensure only Bucky could hear, Ro added, “I’m scheming, though.”

Dipping his head so his lips were a mere inch from her ear (of course Ro didn’t forget to breath with Bucky being that close), Bucky softly added, “gonna fill me in?”

Ro cocked her head to the side, gesturing between Sharon and Steve who were, fortunately, both utterly enthralled in their own conversation. Bucky nodded in understanding, leaning toward Ro to ask an additional question prior to being interrupted by an obnoxiously loud shout. 

“Wahooo,” with a ridiculous country twang was heard with the backdrop of Hunter Hayes’ _I Want Crazy_ emitting from the speakers, reverberating through the entirety of the two story room. 

“Uh oh,” was all Ro could elaborate before Clint popped up between Bucky and Ro (once again, how did they end up so close?). 

Suggestively leaning against the bartop, drunken Clint grasped Ro’s hand, drawing all sorts of attention from the crowd with his elevated voice, “honey, it’s our song.”

Having been through this charade before, Ro jumped to the point, “and who, may I ask, are you trying to impress now?”

“That obvious?” The man _whined._

“Yep,” Ro replied, shaking her head at Bucky’s evident confusion. 

“That guy at the far end of the bar,” Clint gestured, by cocking his head to the left, to which Ro pinpointed a man in a rather dapper suit. “He doesn’t think I can two step.”

“And he can’t?” Ro really wondered about Clint’s methods of flirtation. 

“Nope, can you help me show off?”

Rolling her eyes and taking a long sip of her drink, Ro groaned, “you’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Ro allowed Clint to pull her off the stool and toward the dancefloor, the two immediately falling into sync with the music.

Ro shot a wink toward the man whom Clint was trying to impress, mumbling a quick, “he’s a looker,” before being spun outward then back. 

“Doesn’t swing your way,” Clint jabbed as they fell back into the rhythmic steps in preparation for their choreographed routine to start at the next chorus. 

“Damn, we were going to compete,” Ro groaned out in feigned disappointment prompting them to both laugh before one final simple spin before the chorus. The two had effectively cleared the dancefloor, garnering all attention. 

As Ro and Clint’s intricate spins and steps increased, Bucky couldn’t help but stare, mouth agape. The flare of Ro’s blue dress induced by persistent spins was triggering all sorts of memories from the 40’s. Joyous memories that made him want to get up and dance. Dance with Ro. 

Just before the song comes to an end, Ro feels a gentle tap on her shoulder. Mr. Dapper was evidently highly impressed with the routine he saw, “may I?” Ro nodded before handing over Clint’s hand in an exaggerated fashion to which Clint rolled his eyes. Ro just laughed as she made her way back to her seat to see Bucky, Sharon, and Steve all clapping at her performance. 

“Well, that was impressive,” Sharon immediately spoke when Ro was within earshot. 

“I do what I can,” Ro retorted with an exaggerated amount of nonchalance.

“Hiding any other random dance moves?”

“Actually,” Ro held up a finger to Sharon as she downed the remainder of her drink (Bucky didn’t approve of that move), “anyone see any Asgardians?”

Steve laughed, knowing fully where this query is headed, before nodding his head toward Sif and Thor. “Not sure where Loki is-” If Loki doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. Simple.“-but, there’s two of them.”

“Perfect,” Ro sang as she made her way to the DJ to submit a request before rerouting toward Sif, all but forcing the lady onto the dancefloor as strange music began. The moment Sif recognized the music, she smiled and became more cooperative, taking one of Ro’s hands in hers before the two assumed positions, shoulder to shoulder facing opposite ways. 

“Uh, what song is this?”

Steve leaned over to answer Sharon’s question with a shrug, “something from Asgard.”

Once Ro and Sif were done arguing over who would lead, the two began intricately stepping around each other with arms occasionally intertwined in some sort of medieval inspired line dance. The moves were rather impressive, foreign yet impressive. 

“They have their own dances.” While Bucky’s comment was more of a statement, it begged for confirmation. 

“Better question,” Sharon interrupted, “Ro knows their dances?”

Smiling and nodding at the unusual sight which was once again garnering the room’s attention, Steve succinctly responded, “yep.”

Thor and Loki (appearing from who knows where) slowly walk to the center of the floor and join the ladies; all four continuously exchange partners in a highly coordinated manner. At one point, Ro obviously missed a step; however, Loki readily saved the potential trip with an unrehearsed lift to which Thor and Sif (Sif especially) laughed at Ro’s surprised yelp. As payback, Ro may or may not have tried to trip Sif, unsuccessfully but not unnoticed. 

As the music comes to an end, there is communal applause punctuated by laughter in response to Ro’s exaggerated bow. As the four approached Ro’s former position at the bar, Sharon once again spoke with utter surprise. 

“Shoot, that was also impressive, ma’am.”

Laughing as she took her seat, Ro exaggeratedly responded, “why, thank you m’lady.” Leaning past Sharon, Ro caught Steve’s attention, “Thor has a present for the birthday boy.”

In perfect timing, Thor clapped Steve on the back in a manner that would be deemed aggressive had the man not been a super soldier. All is forgiven as the god of thunder pulls out a golden flask, passing the celestial ale to Steve who more than happily accepts.

“Sharon was right,” Bucky began softly in Ro’s ear, prompting her to turn around, “that was impressive.”

“A genuine compliment?” Ro feigned shock as she put her hand over her heart as she continued, “I’m touched.”

Smiling as he shook his head at Rowan’s charade, Bucky lowered his voice, “so, what’s this scheme of yours?”

“Did I hear we are scheming?” And there’s Loki. From who knows where...again. 

“Nothing that would intrigue you oh-mischievous-one,” Ro sarcastically retorted.

“Pity.”

“Actually,” Ro began, prompting Loki to temporarily cease his retreat, “would you mind submitting a request to the DJ?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Cocking her head in apparent offense, Ro quickly jabbed, “well, you _did_ get a dance with two gorgeous women. Am I not correct?”

Devilishly smiling as he cocked his chin upward, “well isn’t someone a little bit conceited.”

“I prefer the term confident,” Ro spat back with typical Stark ease, “but, am I wrong?”

After apparent contemplation, Loki smiled in reluctant agreement, “what song?” 

Ro whispered a song selection to Loki, who promptly disappeared in characteristic fashion, before spinning to square her shoulders to the bar and looked to her left at Bucky who was casually propped on the bar counter. “And now for where you come in.”

“I’m all ears, doll.” Something elicited some sort of warmth in Ro’s core. Something about _that_ voice saying _those_ words blanketed by _that_ smirk all wrapped in _that_ uniform. Whew.

Leaning to the left, once her shoulder made slight contact with Bucky’s chest, Ro lowered her volume further, “use that supposed charm of yours to get Sharon on the dance floor once I get Steve dancing, then-”

“And how do you plan on gettin’ Stevie out there?”

Rowan scoffs at Bucky’s evident skepticism. Shifting her weight in the stool ever so slightly, Ro reached up to Bucky’s tie with her left hand and readjusted the accenting garment as she spoke softly, “oh, Sergeant,” gambling a glance upward, through her lashes, Ro maintained her hold as she continued, “have some faith in my abilities.” Unnecessarily smoothing her hand over his jacket lapels before returning her hand to its original position on the bar counter, Ro noticed a hitch in Bucky’s breath. 

Evidently if one flirts with the resident flirt, said resident flirt is rendered temporarily speechless. Duly noted. Ro struggled to stifle a giddy smile as Bucky composed himself. This is going to be fun.

Huffing out a nervous laugh, Buck egged on, “and what’s the plan after that?”

Before Ro could elaborate, the booming voice of an inebriated Thor prompted both Rowan and Bucky to slightly wince. “Brother!” And now Bucky can say he was able to experience the god’s notorious back slap that would effectively clothesline a non-enhanced individual. 

Shoving the golden flask in front of the brunette super soldier, Thor began his long winded spiel, “I offer you the finest of ales, collected from the realm that is praised for housing the pinnacle of-”

“Oh, not the speech again,” Ro groaned loud enough for Thor to glance down in a combination of confusion and disappointment, “just drink it.” Ro’s command to Bucky effectively replaced the god’s joyous smile. Only after receiving an affirmative nod from his childhood friend, Bucky took a swig.

Ro gasped in anticipatory excitement as she heard the familiar tune fill the room. Nudging Buck with her elbow, Ro spun around and quickly winked at Sharon before resting her eyes on the blond super soldier. “Stevie, recognize the song?”

Steve shook his head in disbelief as Ro hopped off her stool, swaying to the beat. “No way you’re getting me out there.” As Steve adamantly shook his head, a smile began to form on his face as Ro took a couple steps in his direction, “don’t get any ideas.” He definitely knows she’s up to something. Of course, when is she not?

“Stevie,” Ro took the blond’s hands and gave a look of feigned dejection before donning a surprisingly flawless old Brooklyn twang, “you’re not gonna leave a lovely lady like myself hanging?” Groaning in evident defeat, Steve took a couple reluctant steps forward as Bucky spoke up in shock. 

“Has a dame ever asked you to dance, Stevie?” It was precisely that second that Steve knew Rowan wasn’t alone in the schemes. 

“You two are unbelievable.”

Ignoring the blond’s disbelief, the two begin dancing. Which, with Steve, dancing really means dodging the man’s feet while swaying to a tune that Ro swears must only be in his head while standing an awkward distance apart. Ro can hear her high school dance chaperon’s voice now, “leave room for Jesus.” But, it’s Steve; so, Ro couldn’t care less how pitiful his rhythm was. Plus, she had limited time to convince the blond that Sharon wouldn’t in fact reject him given he found the courage deep down to ask the lady on a date. 

After approximately 32 seconds of courage building, 9 seconds of failed threats, and 27 seconds of negotiations, Rowan finally convinced Steve to ask during the next song. Whew, that burnt off all of Ro’s alcohol. The timing was actually perfect; seconds later, Ro saw Bucky tap Steve on the shoulder, requesting to switch partners. 

“I’m gonna have to ask for a swap, pal.”

After a knowing look from Steve, who evidently _finally_ figured out the scheme, Ro flashed a smile before ejecting herself and all but shoving Sharon into Steve by the lady’s hips. Bucky just shook his head at Ro’s mid-dance floor charade. 

“Well, you’re definitely not one known for subtleties,” Bucky nonchalantly spoke as he pulled Rowan into his arms, immediately falling in tune with the music.  

“Never said I was,” Ro offered back with a smile before she was gracefully spun outward before being pulled back into Bucky’s arms. 

Rowan was surprised by the level of comfort she felt dancing with Buck. Her right hand was gently cradled within his mental embrace as her left arm was casually draped over his right shoulder as if dancing with this man was second nature. The two swaying side to side in unison somehow felt...right. Of course, maybe that was because she finally had a dance partner who understood the concept of a beat.

“ _You_ actually have some rhythm,” Ro spoke with genuine pleasant surprise. 

Smirking, the man confidently replied, “one of us had to know how to treat the ladies.”

“Forgot I was speaking with the resident flirt,” added as she sarcastically rolled her eyes. The two slowly let their arms fall as the music faded into something more upbeat, something Ro didn’t readily recognize while Bucky did, offering a devious smile.

“Ah, now we’ll see if I’m the only one with that 40’s rhythm,” the brunette soldier lightly offered as he pulled Ro back into a warm embrace, even closer than before, easily picking up the newfound beat. 

“Don’t sugar coat it,” Ro slyly spoke as she scrunched her nose, “you just want to keep dancing with me.”

Leaning his head down, Bucky’s lips barely grazed the shell of Ro’s ear as he whispered, “you caught me.” 

The warmth in her core arose once more; however, before she could dwell on the closeness or Bucky’s confession, Ro was spun outward, as gracefully as ever.

***   ***   ***

A couple hours later, the guests had departed which left the residents of the tower to crowd precariously on the furniture of the primary living room with quite the collection of dress shoes scattered about the floor. Bruce was currently trying to gently pry away the Stark-saber (Ro and Tony had a sudden bout of inspiration after binge watching the Star Wars movies months back) from Tony who was slouched on an armchair, on the verge of passing out from a combination of exhaustion and alcohol. Natasha, positioned on the armchair opposite of Tony’s, had Clint’s legs draped across her lap as the archer lay prone, sprawled on the chair’s matching ottoman.

Humming and occasionally singing along with Clint’s coffee-table-drumming, Wanda was puttering around the kitchen, baking with Vision. It’s what she does when she drinks; no one complains about the cupcakes. Ro, from her position on the massive couch, was responsible for submitting requests for Clint. Sam, directly to Ro’s left, was evidently responsible for _criticizing_ Ro’s submissions. Rude. To Ro’s right was a spot being held open for Steve who would shortly return after having completed his gentlemanly duties of seeing Sharon off. To the right of the vacancy sat Bucky who had removed his jacket and tie, even undone a couple buttons, and was definitely not who Ro kept staring at. Of course not. 

After Natasha settled a debate between Clint and Ro regarding the proper lyrics to some obscure Taylor Swift song (Ro was right in case anyone was wondering), the elevator’s ping was shortly followed by Steve grumpily exiting the lift. 

“Stevie,” Ro spoke to egg on the inebriated super soldier (that Asgardian ale is some potent stuff), “where’d your girl go?”

“Hey,” he jabbed back, taking immediate offense for some unknown reason, “she’s a lovely lady.” Ro nodded in agreement, smiling at Steve’s stumbling form as he crashed onto the vacancy between Ro and Buck before continuing. “But, she went home. Gotta work ’morrow. Which reminds me,” the blond paused, dramatically raising his hand as if in grade school answering a teacher’s question, “I’m drunk.”

Clint and Ro let out unbridled laughs as Nat and Sam tried to stifle their amused reactions. Tony was officially unconscious. Bucky was the only one who managed to verbally reply, “don’t think any of us would argue that, pal.”

“Buck?” With a hefty sigh fit for a super soldier, Steve let out a whimper that was fit for a puppy before continuing. “It’s good to have you back.”

“No, it’s not,” Ro quietly jabbed just to test the blond’s level of inebriation. 

“I’m serious, Ro!” Turning to face his childhood friend, fortunately masking Ro’s stifled laughter, Steve grasped Bucky’s hand, not gently at all, “this guy means a lot to me.”

Ro flung her arm across Steve’s chest to garner Bucky’s attention and, in feigned subtlety, whisper shouted, “I think we know who the emotional drunk is.” Bucky widened his eyes and nodded to Ro in adamant agreement before responding to Steve who seemed to somehow not register the conversation that just spanned his person. 

“You mean a lot to me, too, bud. But, I think you should go sleep this off.”

Nodding in agreement, Steve shakily scooted to the edge of the couch, “alright. Yeah.”

“Wait!” Ro’s sudden outburst, although not exactly overly loud, almost caused Steve to fall off the couch. Fortunately, Bucky was sober enough to prevent the impending boom. “Did you finally grow a pair and ask her out on that date?”

“Ro, language!” 

Flashing her best you’re-kidding-me look, Ro retorted, “come on, I could have said-”

“Yes!” Steve practically yelled, solely to cease Ro’s potential profanities. He’s a sensitive drunk...evidently. After the communal hooting and hollering died down, Steve elaborated, “we agreed under one condition.” Cue communal booing. 

Nat spoke up to clarify, “a date with contingencies?”

“Like a contract?” Next was Clint’s mumbling which quickly morphed to giggling, “ha! Like that movie, Fifty Shades?”

“Clint,” Ro pointed to Steve while replying to the archer, “look who we’re talking about, I doubt that.”

“Not a contract,” Steve responded, fortunately not catching the reference, “we just want to make it a double date.”

“Eh, it’s a start,” Ro nonchalantly added, overall just glad the man finally made a move. Huffing out a laugh before reaching to jab Buck in the ribs, Ro continued, “looks like our two geriatrics will be getting some action!” Buck rolled his eyes and opened his mouth in response; however, Steve beat him to the punch. 

“We will not be doing anything of the such, _Rowan!_ ” Well, damn. Someone pissed off a super soldier. “Plus, she’s bringing her neighbor, John.”

Ro and Sam erupted into laughter at Clint’s reaction as he perked up and turned toward Bucky with expressions dripping of hope, “Buck, you’re bi?”

“What?” Safe to say Bucky was taken aback. 

“Bisexual,” Ro began an explanation, accustomed to explaining the social dynamics of the 21st century to Steve; however, she was cut off by Bucky waving her off. 

“I know what it means; but, no, I’m not,” he answered before turning to Clint, “were you about to ask me out?”

Nodding in affirmation, Clint drunkenly replied, “or just flirt with you until you can’t resist me anymore.” That elicited laughter from the majority of the conscious group. 

“You’re going with us, Ro.” Steve’s demand broke off the laughter immediately. The blond didn’t even seem to fully register the previous conversation. Yep, he’s wasted. 

Shrugging her shoulders in response to the proposition, Ro replied after some thought, “well, I did say it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Clint added suggestively, “for more than _just_ a date.”

“Guys, hush,” Ro demanded, “I don’t even know what he looks like. Plus, he could be a total douche.” 

“Oh my gosh, no one is getting laid on the double date,” Steve shoved his face into his hands which only prompted Ro to mess with the blond further. 

“Oh, of course not,” Ro began, “it happens _after_ the date. You’ll catch on.”

The vibrant shade of red Steve donned elicited a decent laugh from the majority of the group. Being the first to gain composure, Bucky stood up and literally scooped Steve up, easily throwing the man over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes that vigorously fought back. The flailing limbs of the blond did nothing compared to the brunette’s strength. Damn, he’s strong. Cue Ro’s inappropriately wandering mind. 

Once Steve’s protests subsided and Bucky made his way toward the elevator as the potatoes incessantly mumbled, “Buck, I love you. Like, not like want-to-sleep-with-you type love you but-”

“I know, you want to do that with Sharon,” Buck jovially jabbed back through laughter. 

“Buck!” Steve whined. _Whined._

“I’m just messing with you,” he somberly added as he stepped onto the elevator, narrowly avoiding the collision of Steve’s flailing limbs with the chrome walls, “I love you, too, pal.”

Wanda, Clint, and Natasha took advantage of the three minutes before Bucky returned Steve-less to pester Ro about her _relationship_ with the cyborg. After giving multiple defenses (all of which the three profusely deemed invalid arguments), the ping of the elevator sounded promptly tabling that discussion for a later date. Or never. Ro could settle for never. 

Ro wasn’t sure when she fell asleep; however, when she woke, Natasha was crowding her vision which was cockeyed due to her horizontal position on the couch with her feet tucked under Bucky’s thigh. She was known for her cold feet; so, that wasn’t too uncommon for whomever shared the couch with her. Yet, she couldn’t help but sense something more from Bucky’s quick gesture - the gentle squeeze of her right foot as she slid them off the couch. 

Nodding in agreement to Nat’s persistence she retire to bed, Ro realized Bruce, Vision, and Sam had all departed. Mumbling “g’night,” Ro pulled Nat into a hug as the redhead kissed the side of her head before making her way over to a groggy Wanda who bid her sweet dreams in Sokovian through a hug that moreso resembled being wrapped in a blanket.

Ro nearly fell onto Clint when she reached down to say “night;” he returned the favor with a drunken grunt and a hand flung behind his back that was as close as a hug as the archer could currently manage. Stepping through the obstacle of sprawled legs, Ro leaned over her dad and kissed him on the crown of his head, receiving a goodnight snore in response. As she stood back up, the room swayed slightly, making her thankful for Steve’s stabilizing hand on her hip. 

Blindly, Ro spun to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek with a quick, “g’night Ste-” But, Steve went to bed. Ro gasped as she backed up and immediately realized her error. She once again mistook Bucky for Steve. “I, uh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were Steve.”

Shaking off the shock and nodding in understanding, Bucky took a deep breath before giving a genuine smile. “You’re okay. Night, Ro.”

“Goodnight, Buck,” Ro quietly replied with a coy smile, only then realizing her hand had managed to find it’s way to Bucky side. Giving a gently squeeze, Ro released her grip then made her way to the elevator, not daring to spare a look toward Wanda or Natasha. Not while she could feel the warmth emitted from her full facial flush that seemed to migrate down into her core. Deep breath, Ro.

***   ***   ***

Jabbing Steve’s ribs after unceremoniously faceplanting onto the blond’s bed, Ro let out an impressive groan of, “Steve,” that somehow included four syllables.

Throwing a pillow over his face, the super solider offered a meek groan in return as a response. 

“I keep making a fool of myself in front of your friend.”

Steve garbled out something resembling, “‘s that so?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ro sarcastically began, propping herself up on her elbows to better deliver her pending oral dissertation. “Getting tethered to him by my hair, getting pinned between his arm and his chest after that damn prosthetic glitches-”

Interrupted by Steve’s furrowed eyebrows of confusion and hair that would elicit a troll doll’s envy, Ro paused awaiting for the blond to collect his evident thoughts. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, Steven, it was bad,” Ro shifted to sit cross legged as the blond flailed ungracefully to shove a couple pillows under his back. “Chest to chest, face to face; personal space went out the window.” The man laughed. Not cool. “I’m serious! And, that’s not even the end of it. When he carried me to bed that night, I thought it was you; so, I told him ‘love you, Stevie.’”

“Okay…?”

“And he said ‘I love you’ back!” Ro’s eyes were widened as Steve looked on, evidently still trying to piece together the issues in his mind. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That maybe he didn’t want you thinking I refused to say ‘I love you’ before you fell asleep?” 

Ro elects to shrug her shoulders and break eye contact, not wanting to admit that Steve’s rationale sounds logical. 

“Okay, well,” Ro continued, desperately trying to make the blond see her dilemma; who cares if she sounds like an exasperated teen anymore. “Last night I kissed him,” Ro spoke as fast as humanly possible then thrust her face into the comforter despite the awkward contortion this put her body into. 

“Whoa, you what?” Oh, now he’s interested.

“On the cheek,” Ro mumbled through the fabric, hoping that enhanced hearing could decipher her garbling, “but, once again, I thought it was you. I was saying goodnight to everyone and I kissed him.”

Steve laughed, again, upon realizing the lack of a true problem. “It’s not like the guy’s never been kissed before,” flopping an arm onto Ro’s back in a failed attempt at gentle reassurance, the super soldier concluded, “you’re fine.”

All Ro could respond was an excessively loud groan. 

“Since when do you care about this kind of stuff?”

“Since _him,_ ” Ro bolted up, thrusting both arms in the general direction of Bucky’s room. Precisely oh-point-three seconds later, she immediately regretted her phrasing. 

“Oh?” Well, Steve, that syllable surely reeked of sexual insinuation. 

“No,” Ro jabbed a finger toward Steve, “no, you don’t.” The knowing smile Steve flashed her was indicative that the blond wasn’t going to cease the suggestive jabs any time soon. Rolling off the bed, Ro dragged her feet to the door, mumbling, “not you, too.”

“I love you, Rowan!”

Cue dramatic exit punctuated by mature door slam.

“What does your shirt say?”

Seriously? Ro wasn’t even able to go wallow in her own self-pity (lord knows she won’t receive it from anyone else) in her room without getting stopped. Turning on her heel to face the speaker, Bucky, Rowan was taken aback by the smirk spanning his amazingly structured jawline that did not match the sincere curiosity of his question. 

“My...shirt?” Very articulate, Rowan. Just parrot back to the man. Perfect.

Glancing down at the garment, Ro resisted all temptations to waltz back to her room with her palm permanently glued to her forehead. Of course, after talking to Steve about all the awkward run ins with Bucky she _awkwardly_ runs into the man. Immediately.

The oversized red shirt had two simple words scribed in black across the chest in the font trademarked by that Disney movie where that one fish gets lost in the entire damn ocean and then two other fish go and find it. Yep. Ro’s shirt reads _Finding Bucky_.

“Tony got it for Steve as a joke when you went MIA a couple years back and it’s really comfy, y’know made of this special cotton; so, I hijacked it and…” Ro, now you’re rambling; close your mouth.

Without ceasing the smirk, Bucky offered a confident, “y’ found me,” before gracefully slipping into Steve’s room as he flashed a wink before Ro was left standing in the center of the hallway, mouth agape.

Ro suddenly wasn’t sure if she wasn’t to slap or kiss that smirk of his face.


	8. Gunpowder and Lube

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Ro and Buck keep Steve on his toes and Clint let's his inner child shine.

Rowan giddily smiled at the table, separating her from the rest of the team, on which lay eight dummy knives, six training guns with various types of magazines, and a few specialty arrows. Waiting for Tony, as usual, the team stood lined up; Clint was eyeballing the arrows with an inappropriate level of hunger that was immediately chastised by Natasha (“Clint, we look with our eyes, not with our hands”) who was discreetly scanning the firearms. Steve, Wanda, and Bruce were in deep conversation about who knows what while Sam and Bucky were both evidently stifling excitement while pointing at the knife selection. Vision was _off-planet_ , a phrase Ro never thought she would say frequently. That’s the Avengers for you.

“Sorry to keep everyone waiting,” Tony nonchalantly spoke, not breaking his gaze from some circular bit of tech in his hands, as if that was just the obligatory phrase to utter when entering a meeting late. 

“Mhm,” Rowan replied, raising an eyebrow in disappointment prompting Tony to pocket the technology and join the line in front of the display table. “Alrighty, before we get to the fun stuff, two notes about combat ready weapons. One, Bruce and I have finalized the Paradise serum, so, Clint, I’ve made some new arrows that will discharge a needle from the tip upon striking the target.”

Ro picked up an arrow on the right side of the table and shoved it into a soft square block, piercing a foam like material, prompting the solution inside to slowly seep out, causing the block to morph from beige to blue. Clint made very mature grabby hands and whining noises prompting Ro to pass the remaining three arrows to the archer for closer inspection. 

“Next, the guns in the tower and quinjet armories have all been fitted with fingerprint scanners; so, the weapons can only be discharged by someone with verified access.” The general consensus was one of pleasant surprise, indicative by the raised eyebrows and nods from the team. Until Tony opened his mouth.

“Sorry, Frozone, no more ambidextrous shooting,” the eldest Stark shrugged with feigned sympathy. 

Rolling her eyes, Ro addressed her father with a professorial demeanor, “the new prosthetic will have an electronic fingerprint that will be verifiable by the scanners; so, ambidextrous shooting is still encouraged.” Steve and Nat smiled at Ro’s composed retort while Bucky was evidently stifling a smile. 

“Now for the fun part,” Ro flashed a devilish smile before continuing, “may I have a volunteer.”

In seemingly choreographed unison, everyone but Steve and Bucky took a step backward. 

Sensing his now vulnerable position, Buck mumbled, “shit.”

“Language,” Steve stoically chastised before taking a step forward, hands still behind his back.

A shot rang out promptly followed by Steve involuntarily dropping to one knee with a grunt of pain. Ignoring the combination of expressions of surprised confusion (Sam and Buck) and stifled humor (Clint), Ro elaborated. 

“You all got a sneak peak at the new training guns a little bit ago; however, they’re now perfected for use in training.” Ro dislodged the magazine before continuing, “the shot will feel realistic initially; however, it’ll fade faster.”

“I concur,” Steve mumbled as he returned to a standing position, still massaging his stomach where the shot landed. 

Slipping bullets from the magazine, Ro began tossing one to each team member as she explained the mechanism, “they have the precision and speed of your standard bullet of the corresponding gauge but won’t leave a trace. They attach themselves to the target, triggering the electromechanical means of eliciting the appropriate sensation, then dissolve. No mess.” Holding up her hand to prompt the team to toss the bullets back (“one at a time, Clint”), Ro reassembled the magazine as she continued, “most magazines will have the standard number of bullets as the combative equivalent; however, there are some with 60 shots per magazine for rapid target practice.” Natasha and Bucky’s eyes widened in excitement at that fact. 

“Any questions?” After receiving confirmation of the negative, Ro took a step to the left, positioning herself in front of the array of knives before continuing. 

“Since someone submitted a complaint regarding our other training knives,” Ro paused for dramatic effect, letting her eyes blatantly fall upon Bucky who offered a smirk, “I’ve taken the liberty of making a few new ones.”

“May I have another volunteer?”

Steve obediently stepped forward only to be yanked back by Bucky’s firm grip on the blond’s shoulder, “no more volunteering for your dumb ass.”

“Language, Buck.”

“Can it, Rogers.”

“You do recall I’m your commanding officer,” Steve’s statement was offered with no inclination of a question, moreso a demand. 

“You tried that back in the day,” Buck jabbed back, “remember how well that got me to listen then?” Steve’s only response was a clenched jaw of disapproval. “Thought so,” Bucky concluded as he made his way where Ro stood, behind the table, as instructed. 

“It’s like having a double dose of Ro,” Sam mumbled in amusement to no one in particular. 

“Isn’t it _glorious_?” Clint animatedly responded to Sam before Natasha once again told him to behave. 

Trying to contain her devious smile, Ro steps closer to Bucky and plucks a regular knife from the sheath on his thigh then selects the corresponding dummy knife. After instructing Bucky to look forward, Ro steps behind him and holds up the real knife for the team to see, “his knife,” then holds up the training replica, “and mine.” Having swapped the knives between her hands, Ro passes the weapons back to Bucky before instructing, “pass me the real knife.”

Bucky initially looks over both weapons before tossing them lightly in each hand, furrowing his brows the entire time. Ro, pleased with the difficulty the man is evidently having, carefully watches the knives, ensuring she is keeping up with the fake. After a while, Bucky passes a knife to Ro. 

“Are you sure?” After a faint nod indicative of Bucky’s uncertainty, Ro took the weapon, tossed it in the air to regrip properly then plunged the blade against Bucky’s abdomen. The man ever so slightly jumped to which Ro was pleasantly surprised by the evident level of trust. I mean he could have easily disarmed her or at least prevented the blade’s contact. Hmm. Buck trusts Ro. Duly noted. 

Readjusting the training knife to show the team who was evidently entertained by the charade, Ro was about to begin explaining the mechanism; however, she was interrupted by Steve’s huff. 

“Was that really necessary?”

Ro raised her eyebrows and offered a slight shrug as if to say, “no, but why not?” Pushing the blade against her opened palm, Ro elaborated, “the blade will retreat into the hilt upon coming close to skin but not walls or metal arms. So, these can be used for both sparring practice and target practice. Questions?”

“What if you hold the blade lengthwise against your opponent,” Bucky challenged, “not just stab them?”

Ro shifted the blade against Bucky’s throat, who just looked rather amused at this point (both ignored Steve’s stifled squeal), before responding. “The weapon will provide a barrier - the same tech as the helicarriers’ shields, but on a _much_ smaller level - between the blade and the skin until the weapon can be retracted into the hilt.” Sure enough, the blade was no longer exposed against the super soldier’s neck. 

Bucky shrugged as he took the dummy knife, jabbing it into his hand and stomach slowly to see the mechanism up close. Natasha was squirming, evidently wanting to get her hands on some toys. Steve let out a huff of rushed air, honestly looking like he just shart himself. 

Passing the real knife back to Bucky (hilt forward, of course; safety first), Ro softly spoke, “you have to admit, I did good.”

Smiling and nodding his head in reluctant confirmation, Buck inquired, “you knew that was the dummy knife, right?”

Giving an inconclusive shrug, Ro flashed a quick wink before walking around the super soldier to the nearby hanging punching bag. “Now for the last piece of fun,” Ro opened her mouth to continue only to be interrupted by Clint. 

“Can I be the volunteer this time?”

“No,” Ro immediately jabbed back, “behave.” This manchild is something else today. “Now, this bag can withstand the impact of real and dummy knives without spilling the contents.” Extending an arm toward Buck, Ro smiled and requested, “knife, please?”

With a small flick of his wrist, Buck gracefully flung the knife past Ro’s head, plunging it into the punching bag. Both struggled to conceal smirks. Ro firmly grasped the knife then pulled in downward to create a two foot cut along the side of the bag. A blue green hue formed along the weapon’s trail as the bag successfully sealed itself. 

“Any questions?”

“How much does it weigh?” Of course Bucky has a question. Troll.

“This one is 212 pounds.” The non-enhanced seemed surprised at the abnormally large weight while the two enhanced seemed rather pleased.

“Why so specific?”

Glancing toward Tony, Ro replied, “the weight of your average Hydra goon.”

“Did you actually weigh them?” Guess it’s Sam’s turn. 

“I’ve placed analytical software in your glasses and Tony’s head gear so I have that data,” Ro continued with a cocky smile, “never know when information like that will come in handy.”

“Oh,” Clint began with a fist over his mouth, “she told you, pigeon.”

Groaning and shoving his face into his hands, Sam mumbled out an evidently rehearsed response, “we’ve been through this. Pigeons and falcons are not even in the same genus let alone the same-”

“But,” Ro spoke toward Bucky to finish her answer, “my goal was to have a 70 pound bag for non enhanced and a 350 pound for you and Steve - like our standard punching bags - but, the chemistry required for the self-sealing compound is causing problems with density.”

“Nah, this is great,” Bucky genuinely added as he shoved the bag around with one of the training knives as Ro, smiling, turned to the remainder of the team. 

“Alright, before everyone wanders off with these,” Ro gestured to the table of training weaponry, “Wanda and Bruce, I need to speak with you two.” 

On cue, all weapons were readily claimed and all but the two requested Avengers paired off to begin an eventful practice session. 

Ro dug into her pocket and retrieved a small pill bottle, shaking the blue and white container, causing its contents to rattle before elaborating, “the biodegradable trackers.” Upon Banner’s nod in understanding, Ro continued, “I’ve managed to construct a more resilient polysaccharide matrix that lasts longer by combating the internal temperature and acidity problem. However, after around 18 hours, the body just passes them through. The only way we’re going to improve that time is if-”

“-we can get the body to absorb them without compromising functionality,” Banner concluded to which Ro nodded in pleasant surprise. “I think I actually have a couple ideas.”

“Perfect. Have at it,” Ro offered as she pulled out a flash drive.

“Good work, kid,” Banner snagged the two proffered objects, turning to exit the training room for his preferred comfort of Lab 51, “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Mk,” Wanda began with her hands clasped in front of her lips, “didn’t catch any of that; so, I’m hoping you have some other news for me?”

Laughing while nodding in affirmation, Ro spoke excitedly, “so, I know you’ve been having some doubts about your telepathy...” Wanda failed in her attempt at concealing an eye roll prompting Ro to shoot a look of disapproval to her self-deprecation. “I took the liberty of contacting Professor Xavier and he doesn’t see any reason why you wouldn’t be able to open selective telekinetic pathways with teammates.”

“From the X-Men?” It took only point two seconds for Wanda’s expression to morph from confusion to recognition to awe. 

“Yeah,” Ro nodded, readying a further explanation only to be interrupted by Wanda’s continued excitement.

“He knows about me?”

“Yeah, and he knows you can do it,” Ro said adamantly.

“How in the world did you get a hold of him...and _why_?”

“I work on fine tuning everyone on the team,” Ro crossed her arms in feigned accusation before continuing, “some of you require special treatment.” At this point Wanda was ecstatic (which Ro thought was slightly unwarranted but made her smile nonetheless). “But, this means we are working double time on perfecting it.”

Through a ceaseless smile, Wanda babbled incoherent Sokovian which she only let slip when rage driven or utterly elated. Either way, still, no one can keep up with that lady’s Sokovian.

“Nat!” 

Once Ro was flanked by her two go-to ladies, she lowered her voice, “okay, so, that, uh, _date_ here in a week or so…” Ro could not believe how nervous she was. This was ridiculous. You would think the lady’s never been on a date in her life. Sheesh. 

“That double date with Rogers and Carter…” Nat egged on because evidently Ro’s linguistics were spectacularly failing at the moment.

Only receiving a slight nod in return, Wanda expelled her previous elation and took a jab, “is the always confident Stark nervous?”

Through a loud groan, Ro reluctantly gave in, “can you two just help me figure out what to wear and what not? I’m not kidding it’s been a while.”

“Of course.” Thank you Nat for taking pity. And there’s Wanda’s giddiness again. 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt; but…” 

The three ladies spun toward Sam upon hearing his cryptic interruption to see quite the sight. Sam had shifted a step away from a highly unamused Barnes who currently had a training knife protruding from the upper portion of his prosthetic. 

With a less cryptic tone, Sam continued, “can you just pop the plates so we can retrieve this?”

“Jesus, Sam!” Ro spat, taking a step closer, realizing the knife was embedded a decent two and a half inches. “What was your goal here?”

“Uh, overpower my opponent.” After a pause, birdman added, “obviously.”

Ro raises her eyebrows in disbelief. _Obviously_ , he says. As if stabbing the Winter Soldier in the bionic bicep would actually slow the cyborg down. _Obviously._ “Go for the heart, kidney, an artery. Something, you know, _vital_.” Staring at Sam who was now rocking on his heels, Ro connected the dots. “You just wanted to stab his arm.”

Sam continued with his inconclusive gestures, adding a vague shrug, lacking all means of denial. 

“I knew it,” Buck jabbed, taking a predatory step toward Sam and relishing when his opponent took a reflexive step back. 

“And of course he nails between two plates that don’t actually retract,” Ro spat toward Sam before stepping forward, taking a strong grip on the weapon a supportive grip on Bucky’s shoulder.

Ro took an attempt at removing the weapon and Sam had to give his humdrum input, “I already tried that.” 

Natasha tried and walked off with clenched teeth, disappointed in her failure. 

Bucky tried. No, Bucky manhandled the weapon until Ro slapped his hands away, “dammit, Buck. The knives are made of a stronger alloy than the plates and I _really_ don’t feel like making new plates for the hell of it.”

Wanda tried until noting that she was just warping the nearby plates. 

Steve tried (of course the Star Spangled Man with a Plan had no objections to an invitation to the impromptu strong man contest) and was dismissed in a similar fashion as Buck by Ro, “do you two not _not_ know how to manhandle?”

“That’s why you called him over here,” Buck began with heightened sass, “right?”

“Yeah,” Steve continued with a similar tone, slowly raising his arms and flexing, “more muscle.”

“Just go back to whatever it was you were doing,” Ro huffed out, waving her arm in the general direction Steve came from before cockily adding, “ _Captain._ ”

“Oh, that sounds like disrespecting authority,” Sam began with a devious smile, attempting to egg on Steve.

Ro just sighed and maintained her focus on Steve, “and take birdbrain with you.” Ro could hear Sam mumble something along the lines of _insubordination_ as he made his way toward Steve before either actually departed. 

Captain America has crossed his arms over his chest and donned the Voice of Authority (patent pending). “And how exactly do you plan on resolving the issue?”

Smirking, because contrary to popular belief, she actually has a legitimate (albeit odd) plan, Ro shouted, “Clint!” 

“Yeah?” His voice came from up. Who knows exactly where; just somewhere _up_.

With the archer’s attention, Ro never faltered under Steve’s challenging stare, only locked eyes more assuredly as she shouted back to Clint, “I need some lube!”

Steve rolled his eyes and stepped away, probably attempting to conceal his currently flushed ears, followed by Sam who was genuinely laughing. Having rappelled from an elevated beam, Clint all but sauntered over to Ro and Bucky as he mentally inventoried his stash.

“Alright, I’ve got some plain or this strawberry flavored one; but, it doesn’t do the job quite as well. Or, this grape one; but, it really doesn’t taste like grape. No artificial grape flavoring actually tastes like grape. Or, this one that’s kind of like icy-hot to add an extra layer of pizzaz; but, it doesn’t feel good everywhere, like if you put it up-”

“Clint!”

Leaning toward Ro, Bucky mumbles as Clint’s mouth closes in an exaggerated fashion, “I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by his number of options or the fact that he’s not _one bit_ curious what your intentions are.” It’s Clint; Ro’s become accustomed to his peculiarities. 

To succinctly refocus the archer, Ro grasps the knife and gives it a gentle shake. Clint nods his head a couple times then concludes, “go with the flavorless. Top drawer of my nightstand.”

“Thank you, Clint,” Ro tossed over her shoulder as she herded Bucky toward the elevator by the knife.

***   ***   ***

Bucky was sprawled on the island countertop in the small private kitchen on the floor Natasha, Bruce, and Clint share. With her right knee pinning down the metal prosthetic and her left palm firmly planted on Bucky’s chest, Ro let out a frustrated groan as she pulled the knife for the umpteenth time.

“I think I saw it move,” Bucky hopefully spoke as he reached precariously through Ro’s grip, further tangling the two, “here, try just a little bit more.” A little bit more lubrication would have been okay. But, no. The super soldier added not another one drop, not two drops, but a damn _pool_ all over the slowly emerging blade. 

“Dammit, Buck, no more lube!”

Of course that’s when Natasha, Clint, and Steve enter. 

“What in the-”

Interrupting Steve, Ro inadvertently shouts as the knife not only swiftly parts from the metal plates, but flies from her grip and imbeds itself into the ceiling. 

There’s a solid minute of comprehending the situation. 

Ro is looking between the knife and Bucky and Steve all while holding her hands, which are both now covered in lube, awkwardly apart. Bucky’s initial concern was locating the weapon which seemingly disappeared and, shockingly, relaxed upon finding it’s current position imbedded in the ceiling above his face. Steve was attempting to catch flies with his permanently open mouth, brain evidently ceasing all non-vital activity while trying to make sense of the scene on the kitchen island. Natasha maintained a fairly neutral expression aside from the slight curl of her lip indicative of amusement...and future blackmail planning. Clint was straight up biting his nails in a failed attempt at concealing his delight.

3...2...

Clint was the first to break, doubled over in laughter with his face already turning shades of purple. Bucky was the next, letting out gradually louder laughs. Ro was next, mainly prompted by the movement of Bucky, who was still trapped under her right knee. After Buck and Ro finally sat up in a normal position, Steve lost it. His hilarity nearly rivaled that of Clint’s who had to take a knee to remain upright. Nat smiled. Like an open mouth, see-your-teeth, smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all have as much fun reading this as I had writing it?


	9. Smitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Rowan and Bucky are left alone in the tower?

“Quin to Command, autopilot is set. ETA six hours,” Natasha’s voice rang through the headset Ro currently wore. 

“Copy that,” Ro succinctly replied, “command on standby ‘til then.”

“That’ll be midnight your time, Ro. No need to be on comms for recon,” Steve’s Captain-ly voice indicated there would be no further debate on the matter. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” Ro jovially jabbed while 99% certain Steve was rolling his eyes (at least she used his proper rank this time). “Command signing off.” Upon hearing confirmation, Ro cut the connection and removed her headset as Bucky did the same to her right. 

T’Challa located a small base theorized to house the group that attacked Wakanda in search for the Winter Soldier. Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Clint would perform two days of reconnaissance then organize a hit (if deemed necessary) along with T’Challa and the Dora Milaje, his female royal security cadre. 

Wanda and Vision originally planned on staying at the tower; however, the Sokovian received a last minute invite to Dr. Strange’s sanctum to perfect her powers. Obviously, you don’t turn down an offer as such (c’mon, it’s magic, guys). Vision decided to accompany her on the impromptu vacation whilst being adamant Ro stop referring to the training as a vacation. Since the mission head count was approaching ten with the Dora Milaje, Sam elected to not cancel his current appointments at the VA and stay home.

That leaves Rowan and Bucky to the tower, alone, for a minimum of four days. Deep breath, Ro. Deep breath. 

“So, what now?”

“Now, we wait,” Rowan succinctly responded to Bucky as she pulled up the quinjet’s tracker, setting up an alarm to notify her of the team’s progress. “I already have algorithms in place to tap into any security systems, video or otherwise, in the surrounding area. After recon is complete, we help the team get in and out unscathed.”

“We?”

“Your resume did say you were an expert tactician,” Ro said with a shrug, “so, yeah, _we._ If you’re game?”

“Of course,” Bucky added as he not-so-subtly straightened his back in pride. 

Ro let out a light huff as she flicked a few switches before mumbling, “what? Just thought I let you come in here to sit there and look pretty?”

With utmost sarcasm accompanied by fluttering eyelashes (eyelashes that went on for days, might I add), Buck retorted, “you think I’m pretty?”

Standing from her chair, Ro cupped her palm around his jaw and donned a similar tone, adding, “don’t let it go to your head, now.” The only way she could conceal her smirk (and the blush she may or may not be sporting) was to promptly exit the room, leaving to the sound of Bucky’s faint laughter in the communications room.

***   ***   ***

“What’cha doing?”

Ro paused, perched on the kitchen island with a spoon loaded with peanut butter and chocolate morsels still in her mouth, to turn and face the room’s new occupant. Bucky’s eyebrows were furrowed together in evident confusion by Ro’s late night choice of snack. 

Mumbling through the delectable treat, Ro reluctantly responded, “stress eating.” The first night alone when the entire team was on a mission would always be the worst for Rowan, full of worrying about potential dangers. 

“Not taking it too well?”

“Never do,” Ro quietly spoke, shrugging as she plunged the spoon back into the peanut butter jar before rolling it in the bowl of morsels. 

Bucky respected Ro’s evident preference for ceasing the discussion and elected to hop onto the counter and not-so-stealthily snagging a few morsels from the bowl. Tossing the third morsel in the air, Bucky leaned into Ro, thoroughly invading her personal space (and not giving a rat’s ass about it) to catch the chocolate bit in his mouth. Ro would never admit to being distracted by his tongue’s apparent dexterity. Never. So, she settled for a slight laugh which earned her a genuine smile from Buck who chose to eat the remaining morsels like a normal human being.  

“How’s training with Wanda going?”

“Kicking my ass,” Buck admitted, shaking his head in unpleasant reminiscence. 

“Figured,” Ro shrugged, scooping another dollop of peanut butter and rolling it in the bowl of morsels as she continued, “but, is it working?”

“Think it’d be difficult to know.” Buck took the spoon Ro silently offered and immediately devoured the contents with an unwarranted moan. 

Ro’s brain may have temporarily malfunctioned at the sole thought of various actions that could elicit _that_ noise from the man. Rebooting. Okay, Ro, what was the topic before the sexual tension spontaneously arose? Wanda. Training. Efficacy of the training with Wanda. Right. 

“Hmm,” Ro inadvertently let out as she tried to think of a way to safely test the training. 

What ultimately prompted them to initiate training with Wanda was an accidental Winter Soldier activation when Ro snagged a weapon Bucky set down. Evidently, it was some sort of contingency plan for a handler to readily eliminate the Winter Soldier. Therefore, the easiest (and safest) way of testing efficacy of training would be to attempt to activate him again. Oh, boy. Ro demanded, “hand over your gun.”

“What gun?”

Raising her eyebrows in evident disapproval, Ro retorted, “don’t play dumb.” This man is always carrying. 

Returning a smirk, Bucky snagged a small handgun from a well hidden holster at the back of his jeans. Releasing the safety, he set the (evidently loaded) weapon on the counter between himself and Ro. 

Taking another bite of her sweet concoction, Ro hopped off the counter and grasped the weapon, watching Bucky intently. His face voided all expression as he assumed a thousand yard stare. Letting out a disappointed sigh, Ro commanded in Russian, “soldier, attention.”

Buck gracefully hopped off the counter and trained his focus on Ro, indicative of the Winter Soldier’s activation. With a loud groan, Ro closed her eyes and let her head fall back in defeat. Her theatrics were abruptly interrupted by Bucky’s laughter which prompted Ro to snap her head forward in utter confusion that quickly morphed into a glare. The man was faking it. 

So, naturally, Ro gave him a small love tap to his right pectoral. Some may prefer the word _punch_ which is, honestly, probably more accurate. He did stumble back slightly. But, he’s a super soldier; he can handle it. So, in reality, Ro punched Bucky in the chest. However, he didn’t cease his laughter; so, _love tap_ it is. 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” shaking her head, Ro put forth a valiant effort to refrain from smiling as she began disassembling the handgun. “For that, I’m locking up your gun in the armory.” Ro made her way to the elevator which FRIDAY had already summoned. 

“But-”

“Which is where it should have been to begin with,” Ro reminded as she crossed the chrome threshold. “Don’t you _dare_ finish my dessert.”

Bucky responded by maintaining eye contact with Ro, not ceasing his signature smirk, all while scooping another dollop of peanut butter and seductively licking it off the spoon. The man went as far as letting his eyes flutter shut as his lips wrapped around the shining utensil. And that was the last sight Rowan saw before the elevator doors closed.

The entire elevator ride down, the entire time Ro organized the parts of the handgun in their respective locations, the entire time securing the three high tech locks, and the entire elevator ride back up, Ro thought of _one_ thing. Bucky’s mouth. Oh, the sheer potential of those alluring pink lips. On her own lips. Along her jaw and down her neck. The more erotic Ro’s thoughts became, the more her body responded. 

Contrasting greatly with the coolness of the chrome wall of the elevator against her back, Ro noted a distinct warmth of her now-flushed cheeks. Not a flush of embarrassment, but a flush of desire, lust. This warmth slowly descended down her throat, to her chest and deep within her core. She imagined those lips following the guiding path of this warmth, lower and lower and-

“Um.”

The single syllable not only snapped her lustful thoughts immediately out of existence but snapped her eyes open (which she didn’t realize had closed). Ro, standing in the open elevator ( _how long had it been open?_ ), saw Bucky standing near his same position when she departed. His gaze moved between his prosthetic, which was hanging lifeless at his side, and Rowan, who had still yet to exit the elevator. 

Physically shaking her head and subconsciously forcing her feet to move in a coordinated rhythm, Ro tried her best shot at a jovial tone, “if this is another joke, I’m going to magnetize your arm.” Ro emphasized her joke by snagging a hot pink magnet from the fridge and twirling it between her fingers before setting it on the counter next to the super soldier. 

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Bucky slyly retorted with his one functional hand perched on his hip in a feigned sense of arrogance. 

Crossing her arms just under her chest, Ro raised a single eyebrow eliciting a perfect challenging tone (Nat would be proud) as she spoke, “don’t test me, old man.” Well, that came across more sensual than expected. Way to _increase_ the sexual tension, Rowan. 

It was evident Buck was stifling the full breadth of his smile, settling for a subtle grin, as he cocked his head to the left, instructing Ro to test the validity of his accusations herself. Applying slight force to a known pressure point on the posterior aspect of the prosthetic elbow, Ro let out a soft hum in response.

“Well, shoot,” turns out the man’s complaint was legitimate after all, “let’s get you to the lab.”

***   ***   ***

Rowan let out a loud shout as the last chorus of her work out anthem poured through her ear buds (self-made, cordless, of course) driving her to push through the last series of punches and kicks to her stoic opponent - a 60 pound punching bag. With one final round house, Ro let the resultant recoil of her leg tip her weight into a roll, resulting in a starfished position on the practice mat. Ro was rather impressed with the grace she conjured from who-knows-where. She was also suddenly thankful for said grace upon realizing she had acquired an audience.

“I think you won.”

Buck sauntered over with both hands perched on his head in an evident attempt at opening his lungs as he took deep calculated breaths, still recovering from running the tower’s stairs. The stretched position lifted his sweat-drenched blue athletic shirt to reveal a sneak peek of angular musculature that seemed to coax her eyes downward, following the slight v flanked by prominent hip bones.

Propping herself on her hands, Ro desperately hoped that her ogling wasn’t blatantly obvious. “Well, it’s easy when your opponent doesn’t fight back.” 

“Want one that will?”

“You offering?” Ro wasn’t sure if she should look forward to sparring with Bucky or not. On one hand, she could definitely learn from the man; I mean, look at his work history. On the alternative, that means getting physically close to him. And, Ro is still deciding whether or not that is a good thing given her current rather confounding mental debate that is currently leaning toward not wanting to fight the feelings her body is enduring.

Shrugging in vague affirmation, Bucky held out an arm to help Ro to her feet. “You could work on getting out of holds.”

“Seriously? Nat taught me well,” Ro confidently retorted. 

“She evidently left out some basics of self defense.”

Ro was now, shamelessly, staring at the man as if he grew a second head. “ _Nat_ ,” she repeated as if _maybe_ he misheard, “left out some stuff?”

“She fights offensively,” Bucky began as he started walking in a predatory circle around Ro, “not normally defensively. I can see that’s how she taught you. It works for your matches with her and Clint; however, when you fight Sam or Sharon, they go for basic holds.” Bucky, having lapped Ro once, was standing directly behind her as he elaborated, “holds that you normally don’t see an assassin wasting time performing; but, you will see an average person use.” 

“Someone’s been spying on me.” Ro was fortunate her voice elicited a sense of confidence she genuinely lacked. What is it about this man that just makes her knees week? This is ridiculous. 

“What can I say,” Buck shrugged, offering an innocent smile as he dug through his nearby sparring bag, “gotta know your fighting style so I know how to take you down given you, y’ know, attack me.”

Ro couldn’t help but let out an audible laugh, “oh, _me_ attack _you._ Right. You’d win in two seconds flat.”

Scrunching his nose in a way that managed to be downright sinful (or maybe that’s just how Ro _wants_ to see the gesture), Bucky corrected, “ _point_ two seconds.” 

Smiling, Ro jested, “you arrogant piece of shi-”

Cutting Ro off by stepping into her personal space, Bucky passed the sassing brunette a roll of athletic tape with one final jab, “rewrap your hands. I’ll go easy on you.”

Looking down at her original wraps, Ro realized she overlooked the fact she could definitely use new tape. She had done a number on the punching bag. However, what was truly consuming her thoughts wasn’t _just_ the reciprocated flirtatious nature of her and Bucky’s conversations, but her _enjoyment_ of said conversations. Yes, they were fun and thrilling; but, they were also intriguing and thought provoking. Provoking thoughts that made her debate whether agreeing for this man to teach her self defense - and therefore shamelessly enter each other’s personal space frequently - was a smart move.

***   ***   ***

As the warm water of her shower poured over her head, Ro belatedly realized the sparring session was probably _not_ the smartest move. The various seemingly compromising positions the two managed to acquire elicited feelings Ro hadn’t felt in a long while. Sensual feelings that Ro should not be (but naturally is) dwelling on while still in the shower.

“Focus, dammit,” Ro chastised herself as she cranked the shower knob 180 degrees, flooding her body in frigid water. Well, that’s one way to reorient focus. “Now is not the time to be indulging in petty fantasies,” she continued her self-reproach. After all, the team was in the field and the man was just thawed out. Now is _not_ the time. 

Right?

Shutting off the water and quickly towelling dry, Ro donned comfy sweats before blindly tossing her dirtied clothes into the hamper. A thud prompted Ro to spin on her heel (it’s not uncommon for her blind tossing to result in property damage) and readily identifies the roll of athletic tape Bucky lent her. After staring at the offensive roll for an impressive five minutes, Ro finally convinced herself it was in the realm of amicable interactions to return a damn roll of tape.

After only receiving a vague grunt in response to her initial knock, Ro elected for a further inquiry before barging in, “Buck, you decent?”

“Depends on who’s comin’ in.” 

Rolling her eyes at the man’s response, Ro elaborated, “dammit, are you dressed or not?”

“I’m dressed,” Buck replied through a muffled laugh. 

Walking into Buck’s room, Ro’s gaze was initially drawn to the man himself who was minimally dressed in sweats that fell low on his hips, _sinfully_ low, and nothing above the waist aside from a towel being roughly tousled to dry his hair. Reorienting her focus (once again), Ro forced her gaze to span the room which she suddenly realized she had never seen before. 

It was very plain, surprisingly so. The bed was well-made in generic linens, white and beige characteristic of the guest floors, bounded by one wall of floor to ceiling windows and three walls only accented with a TV and sparse furniture. Aside from the blue shirt on the floor near the bathroom door and the pocket knife on the dresser, the room didn’t look much different from when it was vacant. 

“What can I do for ya?”

Ro quickly glanced toward Bucky, who was now standing directly to her right with the towel draped over his shoulders. “Oh, well, I came to return your tape,” she began, passing the roll to it’s owner before continuing, “but, it looks like I also need to give you a couple recommendations for an interior designer. What do you think?” Ro began strutting around his room with raised arms in visualization, “modern? Rustic? Antique?”

“Honestly,” Buck began softly, scrunching his nose ever so slightly, “don’t even know what I’d like. Everything here is already a bit much.” He follows it up with a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes which Ro sees right through. 

“What about photos?”

“Because I have a ton of those,” Buck sarcastically added. 

“Steve has quite a few of you two from before your stint with Hydra.”

Buck huffed out, “ha. My _stint_ ,” before letting his head fall, almost shamefully.

“What else do you want me to call it...your imprisonment? Seems a little morbid,” Ro shrugged in an attempt to keep the discussion relatively light hearted. “Accurate; but, morbid.” Taking a step toward Bucky, Ro noted that while he still hung his head low, he now appeared to be more contemplative than anything.

After a while, Bucky looked back up toward Ro and gave a genuine smile, “thanks for not shying away from the subject.”

“Don’t see how that’d help anything,” Ro shrugged her shoulders to exhibit nonchalance while she was desperately hoping she wouldn’t inadvertently push the man away. “It happened; it’s part of your past now.”

“Steve freezes any time it’s remotely mentioned.”

Ro slowly nodded in immediate understanding; she saw it in Steve as well. “I think he does that subconsciously for his benefit. He really blames himself, you know.” Bucky’s smile fell, now replaced by confusion and contemplation as Ro continued. “Sam helped him get past most of it, though. And, now that you’re back,” Ro nudged Buck in the side (the _bare_ side that she was trying to not let distract her) which elicited a smile, “it’s like he’s also back. 100% back.” 

After hearing a barely audible “thanks” from Buck, Ro elected to lighten the mood by snagging the two ends of the towel draped over his shoulders and waltz the man toward the door, “but, let’s go look at those pictures.”

“Sure he’ll be okay with us going through his stuff?” Buck asked; but, he didn’t sound too concerned. Boys are nosy.

“Oh, yeah,” Ro’s exaggerated nonchalance only confirmed Bucky’s suspicion that Steve probably would flash them the Eyebrows of Disappointment for their pending actions. Did that stop either of them? Nope.

Opening Steve’s door and walking toward the vacant bed, Ro added, “oh, and he draws you _all_ the time.”

Buck paused with an expression of sincere surprise, “he does?”

“Yeah,” Ro replied as she wedged her body halfway under the king sized bed and began rummaging around, “even when you went back under cryo in Wakanda.”

“That’s weird.”

“Not drawing you _frozen_ ,” Ro elaborated as she army crawled backwards lacking any grace whatsoever as she slid a large flat box behind her. “He’d draw you from memories and what not.”

Inside the box was a haphazard mess of photos, spirals, leather bound binders, and loose leaf paper of varying sizes all smothering an assortment of writing utensils. While Bucky, now sitting on the floor to Ro’s left, was immediately drawn to the slew of black and white photos, Ro pilfered to the bottom of the box, purposefully selecting a worn grey leather bound spiral. 

“He started on this one after we first met, right after he was thawed.” Further adjusting so her back was against the side of the bed frame, Ro slowly flipped through the pages revealing progressively more detailed scenic sketches interspersed with drawings of Ro performing domestic tasks such as gnawing on the end of her pencil mid-studying.

“Ah, here we go,” Ro cheerfully spoke as she flipped the page to reveal one of the more detailed sketches Steve had drawn while he and Ro shared their former apartment. The charcoal smudges created a surprisingly realistic rendition of Bucky from the 1940’s; only depicting from the shoulders up, the details were clear: short hair, clean shaven, and staring straight out of the page flashing a slight smirk. 

“Back then, he always told me stories about you two,” Ro began, smiling as she reminisced, “especially right after he was found. Drawing you from memory came so easy for him.” Pausing, Ro flipped the page again to reveal a rough sketch of a younger, leaner Bucky in an old dilapidated kitchen, tending to something on the stove. 

“That’s our old apartment,” Bucky softly added, all but beaming at the memory, as he non-verbally asked to see the spiral notebook to which Ro readily obliged. 

The two sat on the carpeted bedroom floor, shoulder to shoulder, for another hour looking through the various sketches and photos. One spiral titled “winter” housed rough sketches of Bucky in the Soldier’s tactical gear with more charcoal smudges than most other sketches, indicative of repeated redraws after being dissatisfied with the results. 

“Steve said he could never get your eyes right,” Ro spoke softly, looking over Bucky’s shoulder at the masked soldier warily staring back, “said they didn’t have the same light as from the 40’s.” 

Bucky evidently tensed as he flipped through the bound pages, seeing an entirely different man staring back at him. Ro gently grasped his flesh wrist, stroking her thumb up and down in a calming fashion while he could still hold the binder with his right hand, flipping pages periodically with his left. 

Passing the last drawing of the soldier, Ro let out a slight huff, “he also complained about drawing your new hair.” Involuntarily laughing at the memory, she continued, “he was so vocal about it that Sam and I threatened to shave his hair off after another complaint.”

Imagining Captain America bald was evidently enough to get Bucky’s mood to change for the better. Ro proffered a blue and white marbled sketch book, adding, “when you were relocated, he started drawing the 1940’s you in the tower.”

Bucky opened and closed his mouth in confusion to which Ro shook her head and prompted the man to open the new spiral, “just look.” 

Sure enough, page after page revealed a short haired Bucky with one or two Avengers doing domestic things such as mingling in the kitchen or sitting outside on the pool deck. Bucky ceased his page-flipping when Ro erupted into laughter at a rough sketch of two people comfortably situated shoulder-to-shoulder on a couch, highly entertained by something in front of them, drawn from the perspective of a third person perched on the armrest. 

The woman was laughing hysterically with one hand pointing forward while the other was passively set on the man’s knee. The man’s head was thrown back, mouth agape, in evident amusement with his left arm nearly obstructed from view, draped behind the woman on the back of the couch, while his right arm was casually outstretched in the opposite direction.

“Steve drew this during game night, the day after you were relocated but still under cryo,” Ro spoke with a smile on her face, “we were playing charades. Steve _was_ on my team but totally unreliable since he was so focused on drawing this.”

“Is this…” Bucky began, hesitantly but with a smile on his face. It really was hard not to smile; the joy of the two people in the drawing was well captured thus quite contagious. 

“Us,” Ro nodded as she closed her eyes, almost in embarrassment. “He was _always_ so adamant that you and me would get along. Even before we knew you survived all this time, he told me how he wished I could have met you.” Letting out another laugh, Ro continued, “said we probably would have gotten into so much trouble in the 40’s; but, we would have _‘clicked.’_ ”

Through a wide smile, Buck admitted, “something tells me we wouldn’t have gotten into _quite_ as much trouble back then as we will in this century.”

“I like the way you think, Sarge,” Ro readily agreed as Bucky continued flipping through the pages of the current spiral. 

Rowan could not rid the giddy smile off her face. She couldn’t rid the warmth in her lower stomach. Or rid the innate sense of comfort she felt with Buck. But, then she realized she didn’t want to. Shifting her gaze from charcoal covered pages, Ro glanced at Bucky who was still only dressed in those sinful sweats while shamelessly smiling, thoroughly entertained by the drawings. Suddenly, her smile, the warmth, and the sense of comfort amplified. What is this?

She’s _smitten_. 

With him. 

Rowan Stark is _smitten_ with Bucky Barnes. 

Shaking her head profusely to ensure her mental constructs are not thoughtlessly enacted upon (you know, like leaning over and pulling the man into an intense and seemingly random form of affection, like a kiss), Rowan glanced toward the clock. 

“Oh,” shifting the large box closer to Bucky, Ro stands, “I need to get working on dinner if we want something other than raw veggies tonight. But, you go through the photos and loose leaf drawings; if you find anything you want for your room, snag it and we’ll work on personalizing that blank canvas you call your room tomorrow.”

Replacing his genuine smile with feigned seriousness, Bucky took a hefty sigh, “if Steve throws a fit about me hijackin’ his stuff-”

“Oh, since when do you care about getting under his skin?” Ro didn’t conceal any bit of her smirk on her way to the door. She vaguely heard some mumbling resembling “see, already getting into trouble” as she let the door close behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a longer chapter; however, it felt choppy. So, I've split it into. Which means another chapter will be posted tomorrow!


	10. Her Two Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The short-ish chapter in which action happens, Ro and Buck are too focused on each other, and Captain America is tired of being ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter does have some violence (nothing exceeding what is found within the MCU).

Having unpleasantly woken from another nightmare, Ro rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands until she saw white. Letting her arms fall limply to her lap, Ro allowed her vision to restore itself as she repeatedly reaffirmed the invalidity of her mind’s twisted concoctions. Given Steve’s away and she wasn’t entirely certain about waking Bucky up at this hour, Ro decided a glass of water would have to suffice in bringing her out of her post-nightmare funk.  
   
Letting out a forceful breath of air as if physically releasing the stress from her nightmarish slumber, Ro stood in front of the sink as she took occasional sips from the glass in her hand. Swirling the last ounce of fluid, she raised the glass to her lips but was interrupted by a cool metallic sensation between her shoulder blades.  
   
Ro was about to let out some witty remark to Buck about sneaking up on her _again_ ; however, she was interrupted by the well known click indicative of retracting a handgun’s hammer. One wrong move and a bullet would be released and the weapon’s owner was aiming at a vital organ, her heart. Shit. Ro’s mental woes ceased upon hearing the shattering of her glass on the kitchen floor, the glass she didn’t even realize had fallen from her grasp.  
   
“Where is he?”  
   
Ro desperately tried to identify the gruff voice. No one with access to the tower, that’s for sure. But, that means Mystery Man had to break into the residence which would require bypassing FRIDAY.  
   
“Who?” Ro was thankful her voice didn’t waver, revealing her genuine fear.  
   
“You know who I’m talkin’ ‘bout, sweetheart.”  
   
Yes. Yes, she did. But, holy hell did she need to stall and figure out a way out of this situation that didn’t involve her dead or Bucky kidnapped. Bucky, shit. Where is he? This is their personal floor and there is no way he slept through the shattering glass.  
   
“Do enlighten me,” Ro jested back. And, boy was that the wrong thing to say.  
   
Ro’s hips were forcefully shoved into the cabinet directly in front of her which made her highly aware of the spare magazine and sheathed knife attached to her attacker’s belt digging into her lower back. Now that is something she can work with. Okay, now how to distract the damn guy long enough so she’s not the target.  
   
Ignoring Ro’s inquiry, Mystery Man growled, “is the damsel in distress going to call for help?”  
   
“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m in _distress_ , I’d-”  
   
Ro’s sass filled retort was cut off when Mystery Man pulled her hair, forcing her head backward, eliciting a sharp involuntary yelp which was silenced as the cold barrel of the gun found it’s way to the underside of Ro’s chin. The abrupt shift of her gaze gave her an adequate line of vision to see a slight glint of metal from the far left side of the room. Bucky. But, he couldn’t be seen; he _can’t_ be taken. Ro tried to mouth “no,” desperately hoping Bucky wouldn’t do anything irrational and risk his exposure.  
   
“And, for whom might I call in an empty house?”  
   
Evidently done with Ro’s nonchalant jabs, Mystery Man gave his own sarcastic laden retort, “oh, I don’t know. Maybe the Winter Soldier?” Ro’s eyes scanned the sink in front of her for any utensil she could use as a potential weapon as the man continued his gruff speech, “we know you’re housing him.”  
   
Reaching forward, Ro managed to grasp the rim of a dirty plate and immediately thrusted it into her attacker’s head. The Mystery Man’s yell morphed with the sound of more glass shattering against the floor; however, Ro’s focus was on the chef’s knife still hilted in the knife block on the island...directly behind the man.  
   
“I’m done with you, bitch.”  
   
Ro’s breath caught in her throat as the muzzle of the gun was held a mere inch away from her forehead, her outstretched arm still a foot away from her impromptu weapon. Her attack with the dish had caused a deep gash above the man’s left eyebrow; however, the injury didn’t seem to impede him in the least.  
   
Taking an anticipatory breath, Ro closed her eyes as the shot rang out and she felt a light brush of metal against her head that quickly departed. No pain and no sound aside from the rapid pulsing of her heart rate thundering in her ears. An inhuman gurgling sound piqued Ro’s confusion prompting her to open her eyes.  
   
Bucky blocked the majority of her view (when the hell did he get here?); but, she could still see the Mystery Man’s form slump over against the island. Ro’s hand quickly found her forehead as if desperately trying to figure out where the shot landed. No blood. No wound. What the hell happened?  
   
Turning around to say something, Bucky’s voice was suddenly cut short as the walkie talkie on the attacker’s belt started crackling, voicing the imminent approach of the remaining team members. Having snagged the evidently helpful hand-held radio, Buck turned to Ro who had yet to move aside from letting her mouth fall open in evident confusion.  
   
“Y’ okay?” Ro continued to stand in silent stillness until Bucky’s right hand cupped around her jaw to which she just nodded in vague affirmation. “Stay here,” he growled out, evidently desperately hoping the lady in front of him registered the command, before darting toward the stairwell where the attacker’s team was on the way.  
   
Ro wasn’t sure how long she stood there; however, she did know it was long enough to realize that she was surrounded by shattered glass, a man with his head at a precarious angle lay in front of her, and Bucky was no longer using his prosthetic arm. Wasn’t using his arm. There was a gunshot. Ro wasn’t hit. Bucky popped out of nowhere. Bucky was shot.  
   
Her phone ringing pulled her out of her now panicked trance and prompted her to sprint toward her room, ignoring the searing pain caused by an apparent imbedded chunk of glass in her right foot. Hobbling to the left of her bed, Ro furiously slid the answer bar on her phone upon seeing Steve’s name on the caller ID.  
   
“St-Steve!” Ro shouldn’t have been quite as shocked at how much her voice wavered; but she was. But the shock was probably warranted; the tower was attacked and Bucky was shot.  
   
“We got word that Friday was disabled.” While Steve let his Captain-ly voice take over, his fear was evident.  
   
“We were attacked an-”  
   
“We’re on our way.” Steve butted in, losing his Captain demeanor entirely, “are you okay?”  
   
“Yes; but, Bucky’s been shot!”  
   
After an attempted stifled gasp, Steve resorted back to leader mode, “are the intruders neutralized?”  
   
“I-I don’t know,” Ro was desperately trying to steady her voice. It’s not like she’s never seen fatal gunfights before; hell, she helps organize them for missions. But, this is home, a safe place. “There was one on our floor and then I was in the kitchen when he had the gun and Bucky was there and-”  
   
“Woah, slow down. Listen to me,” Steve interrupted prompting Ro to take a deep breath, “where’s Bucky? I need to speak with him.”  
   
“I don’t know,” Ro fell silent as she heard faint rumbling from the kitchen, “I think someone’s coming.”  
   
“Hide,” Steve succinctly ordered, “arm yourself if possible.”  
   
Ro snagged a pen from her nightstand, desperately wishing she hadn’t locked up her suit in the armory which prevented her from summoning the garment. Diving under the bed in a highly uncoordinated fashion (much easier said than done, by the way) with her phone in one hand and the pen in the other.  
   
Ro saw faint movement near her door prompting her breath to hitch as she forced her face into the carpet in a pitiful attempt at stifling any involuntary noise. Upon glancing back up, Ro immediately realized that was the wrong move; she was now unable to locate her new attacker. The sudden firm grasp around her ankle resulted in a deafening scream to fall from Ro’s mouth.  
   
Still writhing as the attacker pulled her completely out from under the bed, Ro rolled onto her back and recoiled her arm to begin her defensive strike.  
   
“Ro, lady, relax! It’s me,” Bucky was desperately trying to be heard through Ro’s persistent screams and flailing limbs.  
   
Finally opening her eyes to see those familiar blue grey eyes staring down, Ro took a deep breath and dropped the pen before slapping Bucky’s flesh shoulder, “damn you, James Barnes! You scared the living shit out of me!”  
   
“I told you to stay where you were!” Bucky countered as he shifted on the floor to Ro’s right.  
   
“I don’t exactly listen to directions very well in case you haven’t noticed,” Ro cocked her head to the side as her eyes grew wide in recollection, “but, you were shot!” As Bucky nodded in affirmation, Ro began running her hands over his torso and arms, trying to locate the bullet induced injury.  
   
“I’m fine, I-” Buck paused and tilted his head as if trying to better hear a faint noise before reaching back under the bed and revealing a phone with a frantically yelling Steve on the other end.  
   
“Oh, Steve wanted to talk to you,” Ro spoke as she tapped a button to activate speaker.  
   
“Rowan, what the hell is going on? Can you hear me, R-”  
   
Ignoring Steve, Bucky scanned up and down Ro’s body, “where are you hurt? There’s a trail of blood leading back to your room.”  
   
“Blood?” Steve’s voice interrupted Ro before she could even open her mouth, “I thought you said you were fine, Ro?”  
   
“I-I guess I stepped on some glass.” Ro nonchalantly waved her hand; the pain wasn’t great probably primarily due to her shock. However, that didn’t stop Bucky from swiftly picking her up, cradling the majority of her weight with his right arm, and heading toward the kitchen. “I can walk,” Ro groaned.  
   
“Not unless you want another blood trail,” Bucky retorted, without any indication of releasing her.  
   
“Someone. Explanation. Now.”  
   
While Ro was busy rolling her eyes at Steve’s order, Bucky succinctly replied in prompt militant fashion. “Attackers still unidentified. Aiming to extract me. Held Ro at gunpoint to get information,” Bucky let his gaze fall upon Ro, raising his eyebrows in prominent disapproval as he continued, “instead of talking she just slammed a plate in the guy’s face so he went to shoot-”  
   
“-then you were shot!” Ro asked again with limited tolerance, “are _you_ okay?”  
   
“He shot the arm,” Buck replied with a shrug of his cybernetic shoulder after setting Ro gently on the counter to which she promptly noted the kitchen was dead-body-less now.  
   
“That arm is just a prototype; it’s not made to take a shot!” Ro had already snagged the prosthetic as she tried to analyze damage.  
   
“Then, I guess it’s good you have the real thing in the works,” Buck responded with a smirk. He was just shot and he had the audacity to _smirk_. Ro couldn’t help but let the edge of her lips curl ever so slightly.  
   
“Guys!” Steve’s adamant tone prompted both of their heads to snap toward the small device Ro had neglected. “Where are the intruders?” Valid question; but, damn was that query loaded with sass.  
   
“Locked in an interrogation room,” Buck replied. “One is...dead. The others won’t be waking for a while.” Bucky firmly set his jaw as if honestly regretting having to take a life yet knowing it had to be done.  
   
“Okay,” Steve concluded, evidently wanting to ask more questions; but, determining it wasn’t the time. “We’ll be back within a couple hours. You two take care of each other.”  
   
Ro’s gaze fell on Bucky’s eyes which exhibited the smile that had slowly formed as he replied to Steve, “of course.”  
   
“Aye aye, Captain,” Ro offered with a smirk, “see you all soon.”  
   
As the phone disconnected, Ro directed Bucky to the nearest first aid kit (which with the Avengers’ track records were generously dispersed throughout the tower) and began gently removing the small shards of glass.  
   
“Thank you...by the way,” Ro offered with a slight smile, “for saving my life.”  
   
“No problem,” Buck replied, letting his smile fall as he pulled the last piece of glass from Ro’s foot. “Just promise me you’ll never do something like that again,” Bucky’s voice was incredibly soft, so soft that Ro almost missed his words.  
   
“I couldn’t let them take you,” Ro admitted, furrowing her brows in an attempt at confidence, “not again.”  
   
Bucky gave a slight smile, one that indicated both genuine gratitude but also the desire to say a lot more, maybe even argue the case, as he finished wrapping Ro’s foot in gauze. After Ro’s surprisingly coordinated sweeping from her vantage on the counter (Buck was on dustpan duty) and a few jokes about Bucky having evident forethought to wear combat boots to bed, the kitchen resembled normalcy.  
   
“Now your turn,” Ro gently grasped Bucky’s prosthetic, analyzing the puncture where the bullet still lay. “I’m going to need a couple things from my lab.”  
   
Buck flashed her a pointed look then gestured his head toward her wrapped foot to which she replied with a smile as she spun the man around and hopped onto his back.  
   
“Onward!” Ro could feel Bucky laughing at her exaggerated demand as he firmly grasped her legs which were wrapped around his sturdy waist. Ro was genuinely at odds for having to consciously control her lewd thoughts despite the events that just happened.  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
“Seriously?” Tony’s voice was just loud enough for those directly behind him, Steve and Nat, to hear. “When I said I find it sweet when Ro falls asleep on her projects, you know, like-father-like-daughter, I didn’t mean _this_ project.” With a loud groan and having visual confirmation of Ro’s safety, Tony dramatically made his exit back to the elevator mumbling something along the lines of “ _damn geriatric assassins and their incompetent…_ ”  
   
Steve and Nat stood above the sleeping Bucky and Ro, both precariously draped over the singular couch on their personal floor. Sitting backwards, Ro’s right leg was extended along the length of the couch with her left leg bent against Bucky’s thigh, her knee wedged into the back cushion. In her hand and spread across the cushions were various tools used to tweak the prosthetic draped haphazardly across Ro’s right hip as she lay asleep, head against Bucky’s chest, tucked under his chin. Bucky, also asleep yet sitting on the couch like a normal person, had his legs stretched on the coffee table while his head rest on the back cushion and his right arm protectively draped across Ro’s back.  
   
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Cap,” Nat whispered as she followed Tony’s same route to the elevator, leaving the three residents to their floor.  
   
Steve shook his head as he bent down to pick up Ro only to be abruptly shoved back by Bucky as the brunette super soldier solidified his protective grasp on Ro. Bucky’s sudden realization hit just as Steve caught himself on the coffee table. Ro was just groaning, evidently dissatisfied by her disrupted slumber.  
   
“Shit,” Bucky huffed out upon seeing Steve’s precarious position, “sorry, Stevie.”  
   
“You’re fine,” the blond reaffirmed as he righted himself, “figured a bed would be more comfortable.”  
   
Ro hummed loudly as she sat up, trying to come to her senses as if burning off general anesthesia. “Oh, hi,” she offered a sleepy smile in Bucky’s direction then glanced toward Steve, offering a sloppy pat against his cheek as a meek welcome. Both men just shook their heads, desperately trying to stifle laughter, in response to Ro’s drowsy greeting.  
   
“Oh, shoot,” Ro suddenly recalled why she had been in such the odd position. “I’m almost finished.”  
   
“I think it’s fin-” Bucky’s reassurance was abruptly cut off by his left hand involuntarily clenching to which Ro shot him a pointed look (along with a smirk). No, Buckster, you’re not fine.  
   
Ro was struggling to focus on her current task given the warm hand that had returned to the small of her back. While it had been an accident she had fallen asleep in Bucky’s arms, quite literally, she felt protected, embraced by the man that saved her life. And now, with that arm wrapped around her frame, she’s not only faced with that same sense of security once more but there’s an additional element elicited by their proximity. After all, due to her precarious angle on the couch, their bodies are close enough that Ro can feel Bucky’s occasional breaths and radiant heat. And, Ro would be lying if she said that didn’t stir a different type of heat in her core. Focus, dammit.  
   
“I’m sorry, guys.” Steve’s downright mournful confession surely snapped Ro out of wherever detour her sleep deprived mind was about to take.  
   
“Steve, don’t do that to yourself,” she commanded, closing the final plate.  
   
“There’s no way you could have known,” Bucky added reassuringly.  
   
Steve set his jaw and nodded in reluctant affirmation.  
   
As Ro stood from the couch and placed her tools on the kitchen island, it was evident that no one was eager to say goodnight despite all three being exhausted. Slowly turning toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, Ro was quickly distracted by the faint trail of blood, turning brown with time, leading toward her room. Subconsciously, Ro began running through the night’s events, not playing the what-if-game, but simply reliving the memory. Her mind was good at that, especially during nightmares.  
   
“Ro?”  
   
Quickly turning toward the opposite end of the hallway, Ro realized she had been standing at the threshold to her room, motionless.  
   
“You okay?” Steve’s brows were furrowed in genuine concern.  
   
 _No. I’m scared and don’t wanna be alone._ But, Ro thought that sounded ridiculous, so, instead, she went with, “yeah, just not ready to go to bed quite yet.” Ro attempted a smile that she knew would never fool Natasha; but, maybe it would fool Steve.  
   
Nope.  
   
Steve nodded his head toward his door as he offered, “go pull up one of your sci-fi shows on Netflix. I’ll get water and popcorn then be right back.” Midnight Netflix binging was Steve’s solution to Ro’s nightmares when they were fresh and worse, years ago.  
   
“Thanks, Stevie.” Ro smiled as she walked back down the hall and into the blond’s vacant room.  
   
After locating the remote, a couple extra pillows, and a show that only required mindless observation, Ro looked up upon hearing the door open. With an uncertain grin and a massive bowl containing enough popcorn for two super soldiers, Bucky stepped inside the room.  
   
“Mind if I, uh, join?” Was this man, the always confident flirt, genuinely unsure of Ro’s answer?  
   
“Hmm,” Ro began with feigned contemplation, “gonna share your popcorn?”  
   
As if an internal switch was flipped, Bucky lost all hesitance as he made his way to Ro’s left with a genuine smile. The same smile that made Ro’s stomach do that funny flip flop that she would profusely deny if anyone were to ask.  
   
“Did you two start the show without me?” Bucky and Ro, both with mouths full of popcorn, glanced toward Steve who was nudging the door shut with his foot, trying not to slosh the two cups of water he held and speaking through the rim of the third cup pinched between his teeth.  
   
“Sorry,” Bucky began as he turned up the volume to a deafening level as he continued his jest, “didn’t quite catch that.”  
   
“Jerk,” Steve mumbled through a smile as he passed the two waters to their respective recipients before climbing into bed on Ro’s right.  
   
“Punk,” Buck retorted, concealing his smile behind the glass of water.  
   
Ro took a small sip, unable to muster much more through her uninhibited smile. This was nice, Ro thought, binge watching Netflix during the ungodly morning hours with her two boys. One who might as well be a life long friend, the other, well, only time will tell. But, Ro definitely _feels_ something there with Bucky. And, boy, would she like to find out what.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I'm stoked for the next chapter. Like, STOKED. So was my beta when I gave a summary.


	11. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which Ro goes on the double date and actually enjoys herself.

Not even waiting until the elevator doors opened to the communal living area, Ro was yelling, “Clint? Sam?”   
   
Clint cursed as the spontaneous intrusion distracted him, resulting in his avatar being outmaneuvered by Natasha’s, solidifying her win for the current round. Wanda, who was curled up next to Vision on the adjacent couch as an onlooker, was evidently amused by the surprised added level of difficulty.   
   
“What’s got you all flustered?” Nat spoke as she filtered through the menu to start another round. Clint demanded best two out of three.   
   
“You look great by the way,” Wanda offered having been the only individual to break gaze from the screen of jostling animated characters.   
   
For the date, Ro was dressed in dark washed skinny jeans tucked into knee-high brown heeled boots with a flowy mossy green sleeveless blouse that she wanted to accent with her favorite sweater, if she could locate the garment. However, due the current change of events, finding a date is now the top priority.   
   
“Thanks,” Ro deadpans as she takes a deep breath so her pending charade isn’t too flustered, “but, Sharon just called. John, the neighbor, is sick. Like puking-his-guts-out sick.”  
   
“So? She and Steve can go on a normal first date, then,” Natasha nonchalantly offered.   
   
“Yeah,” Clint added, “like _normal_ people. You know, just _two_ people.”  
   
“That’s what I said,” Ro flailed her arms apart to emphasize her frustrations, “but, they’re both so _damn_ adamant.”  
   
“And…” Wanda egged on.   
   
“And, I told her I’d find someone,” Ro quietly admitted before groaning. While she did go through all the effort to curl her hair (which requires a substantial amount of dedication in the time department), she really drove herself into a rut with this one. “Clint...be my friend-date?”  
   
“I actually have a date,” Clint paused the game and straightened himself as if proud of this accomplishment, “like a _real_ date.”   
   
While Ro desperately wanted to interrogate the archer on his night, she had priorities. “Where’s Sam?”  
   
Unpausing the game, Nat responded without breaking eye contact with the screen while Clint struggled to overpower his opponent, “spending his anniversary with his girlfriend.”  
   
“Vis?” Ro gave a pitiful smile toward the android.   
   
Wanda interrupted before Vision could reply, “we actually have date night tonight.” Vision appeared to be surprised by his significant other’s reply; Rowan was definitely going to inquire about this later. That lady is up to something.   
   
“Is every male in this god forsaken tower busy tonight?” By the time Ro was done with her charade, her arms were extended in true Stark flare, the game had been paused again, and all eyes were on her.   
   
“And, the universe has spoken,” Wanda said through stifled laughter as she pointed vaguely behind Ro.   
   
Spinning around, Rowan’s eyes immediately spotted Bucky attempting to sideswipe the heated discussion by stealthily making his way to the kitchen. The man, wide-eyed at having been caught, was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, evidently staying in for the night.   
   
“Well, isn’t the universe just full of herself,” Ro grumbled because she sure as hell thought about asking Bucky. However, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to handle going on a friend-date with someone she would genuinely like to go on a date-date with. But, here goes nothing. “You busy tonight?”  
   
“Uh,” Bucky began, feigning deep contemplation, “just the usual of being confined to the tower.”  
   
So, no. “Can you be ready in,” Ro glances toward her watch and her eyes widen, “shoot, ten minutes?”  
   
“What’s in it for me?”  
   
Does he seriously need to be convinced to go on a date with her? Ouch, Buck. But, fortunately Ro has the perfect response.   
   
“You get to see your best friend make a total fool of himself on his first real date since the 40’s.”  
   
“As tempting as that sounds,” Bucky began while Ro was readying a punch if the man rejected her, “I’m not going out with that John guy. Not even to see _that_ show.”   
   
“Dammit, Buck, I’m your date,” Ro huffed out through a smile, not able to contain herself given the smirk she’s receiving, “just go get dressed!”   
   
Bucky takes three steps until he’s standing directly in front of Ro before he softly replied through a genuine smile, “why didn’t you just start with that, doll?”  
   
Ro shakes her head, honestly at a loss of what to say as she placed her hand against his chest and gently shoved him in the direction of the elevator to which he happily complied. The man had the audacity to wink at her as the lift doors close, leaving Ro in a room with a _still_ not-even-discreetly eavesdropping audience. They didn’t even bother unpausing the game to yield the pretense of privacy.   
   
Knowing she was sporting a full facial flush and ridiculous smile, Rowan walked toward the elevator and waited for it’s momentary return as she spoke to the room without making an inkling of eye contact, “not a word.”  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
“Alright,” Steve nearly demanded as he exited his room, evidently trying to compensate for his elevated nerves. Upon spotting Ro leaning against the island, puttering around on her phone, Steve inquired, “ready?”  
   
Ro couldn’t help but give a genuine smile as she glanced toward the man. He looked nice. Yes, she’s seen him in that exact casual-khakis-and-blue-button-up combo before (he’s proud of the outfit, don’t judge); but, this was literally his first real date (not just one of their friend-dates) since thawing and she’s proud of the man.  
   
“Yep,” Ro replied, “but, there’s been a slight change of plans.” The color promptly drained from Steve’s face. Ro suddenly thought he may pass out. “Oh, no, everything’s okay. John just has food poisoning; so, I-”  
   
“You’re still coming, right?”  
   
This man is pathetic. So, Ro told him that.  
   
“You and Sharon are pathetic. But, yes. Just had to find a new date.”  
   
“Okay,” Steve nodded his head as he wiped his evidently clammy hands against his khakis. “Will he meet us at the restaurant or are we picking him up, too?”  
   
“Alright, I’m ready,” Bucky hollered down the hall, exiting his room. And, _damn_ does that man look ravishing. Between the nearly black finish of his jeans and the light grey of his long sleeve henley, Bucky’s eyes were even more piercing than ever.  
   
Through a genuine smile, Ro replied as she made her way to the elevator, “perfect, let’s go.”  
   
Bucky had to link an arm around Steve just to get the speechless, yet seemingly elated, man into the elevator. Ro just shook her head at the comedic gold that was Steve’s reaction.  
   
“I might add that you two men look very nice this evening,” Ro said as the two men stood shoulder to shoulder in front of her, facing the closed chrome doors.  
   
“And, you’re as beautiful as always,” Buck replied, flashing Ro a wink via the reflective walls of the lift. And, if the date was over right now, Ro’s night would have been made. She couldn’t even remember the last time a date made her feel that special.  
   
“Yeah, you look nice,” Steve deadpanned, not breaking his nervous gaze from the floor. Buzzkill.  
   
“Well, don’t do that in front of Sharon,” Ro retorted, trying to stifle a laugh.  
   
“I’m just really nervous,” Captain America _whined._  
   
“You’ll do fine,” Buck reassured, immediately followed by Ro’s, “just be yourself. That’s what Sharon likes about you.”  
   
“I just don’t know what to do about the awkward silences,” the blond silently confessed as the elevator continued its ridiculously long descent.  
   
Ro and Buck shot each other identical you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me looks, silently begging the other person to respond without an inappropriately timed joke. It would be tough for either to not respond with grade A sass right now.  
   
Rowan won the stare down; therefore, Bucky elected to strive for a succinct response. “Stevie.”  
   
Well, that wasn’t reassuring the blond. Ro mentally facepalmed and took matters into her own hands. “You’ll have us there.”  
   
“And, we’ve got your back, pal.” Oh, now he comes up with something encouraging.  
   
“Yeah, okay, let’s go,” Steve confidently spoke as if reassuring himself. In perfect timing, the elevator doors opened to the underground garage; that impeccable timing had to have been FRIDAY’s doing.  
   
“These have been down here the _whole_ time?”  
   
Following Bucky’s gaze to the seven motorcycles, Rowan smirked, “don’t touch mine.”  
   
Purposefully giving excess clearance around the midnight blue sportbike Ro gestured toward, Bucky crouched down next to a solid black bike with a uniform matte finish. “Who’s is _this_?”  
   
“Tony and I made it for missions; so, mainly Nat drives it. Automatic transmission. Electric, not gas; very quiet. Light enough for impromptu jumps. Housemade compression tires-” Ro’s rundown of the schematics was interrupted by Bucky’s inquisitive look to which she elaborated, “air-less tires; no need to worry about a flat from-”  
   
“Guys!” Desperately shouting from the opened driver’s window, Steve was impatiently waiting for Bucky and Ro to climb into the already retrieved vehicle. “Date?”  
   
Leaning into Buck who had opened the door like a gentleman, Ro whispered, “later,” as she cocked her head toward the bikes. Bucky beamed; Ro found this man’s soft spot. Score.  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
“Alright, guys,” Ro started as she tilted her wrist prompting the sweet red wine to swirl around the interior of the glass. “The band doesn’t start playing at the pub for another 45 minutes; so-”  
   
“Oh,” Sharon excitedly interrupted, turning in the booth to face Steve, “that’s enough time to scout out the boardwalk, right?”  
   
“Of course,” Steve immediately affirmed without a second to actually logically consider her query. Fortunately, he was right.  
   
“Alright,” Ro stifled a laugh at Steve’s eagerness, “you two go on. We’ll catch up once I’m done with my wine.”  
   
Ro settled back into the booth, leaning her head against Bucky’s arm which had long since found it’s way around Ro which made her insides warm in a way entirely independent of the alcohol. In fact, the entire night thus far had been wonderful. Bucky and Ro only had to save Steve from two awkward silences; however, their “saves” were at the expense of Steve’s pride in the form of embarrassing stories. It was an efficient way for Steve to learn to recover himself from awkward silences.  
   
The only other event planned for the evening was seeing a small local band performing at an Irish pub down the street from the Italian restaurant for which Steve made reservations. However, given Sharon’s adamancy to see the boardwalk a couple blocks away, Ro had slightly alternative plans for the next 45 minutes. Thus, when she saw the restaurant’s front door close behind Sharon and Steve, Ro immediately downed the remaining two sips of her wine.  
   
“Alrighty,” Ro began, sliding out of the booth, “there’s this amazing shake place that Steve said used to be in Brooklyn in the 30’s but relocated to just in front of the boardwalk.”  
   
“I figured you were scheming,” Bucky squinted his eyes in a feigned accusatory manner while he squeezed out of the booth behind Ro.  
   
“Always,” Ro reaffirmed as they exited into the surprisingly not-humid summer New York air and hung a left. “Plus, those two need some one-on-one time.”  
   
“They’re good together,” Bucky nodded in general approval while following Ro’s casual pace.  
   
“Yeah, they are,” Ro absently agreed, “although, it was rather pitiful how insistent they both were about me tagging along.”  
   
Bucky let out a laugh, “agreed. But, I’d say it worked out alright in the end.”  
   
“It did, didn’t it?” Ro could feel her cheeks flushing and was grateful when her eyes caught the neon sign of the creamery. “There it is.”  
   
Completely stopping in his tracks with his mouth agape, Bucky stared at the green and pink lights in utter admiration that should not be given to an inanimate object. “Custard’s!” When his hypnotizing trance was broken, Bucky noticed Ro 15 feet ahead, holding the door open with a ridiculous I’m-gonna-blackmail-you-for-that grin plastered on her face.  
   
Ro shook her head as the brunette barrelled through the door and immediately locked his eyes on a blown up photo of the famous peanut butter chocolate shake. She had to stifle a laugh as she saw Bucky’s Adam’s apple bob in an evident attempt at controlling his involuntary excessive salivation. Ro couldn’t blame him too much; the picture was rather delectable.  
   
“That looks amazing,” Bucky spoke with the same admiration his eyes gave the neon sign. “What are you gonna get?”  
   
“I’m thinking strawberry banana,” Ro thoughtfully concluded having scanned the menu multiple times.  
   
“ _What?_ ” Bucky continued in utter shock, “you’re foregoing the sugary protein,” for additional flare, he gestures with both hands toward the chocolate peanut butter dream, “for...fruit?”  
   
“Well,” Ro calculatedly explained as if orating her dissertation, “I want both. And, from the mouth breathing you’ve got going on over there, I’m assuming that,” Ro pointed to the picture once more, “is your selection. So, I’ll just steal some of yours. Bam! Best of both words.”  
   
“And, who said I was sharing?”  
   
“Me,” Ro concluded with a smirk that Bucky couldn’t help but smile at.  
   
“Oh, Rowan!” An older lady bustled out from the back room rather hastily and enveloped Ro in a tight maternal embrace. “So good to see you!”  
   
“You, too, Mrs. Travis,” Ro laughed out, gesturing to Bucky when the shop owner released her firm grasp, “this is Bucky, my...date.” Immediately Rowan’s heart skipped a beat. Should she have said friend? I mean date was accurate; but, Bucky’s under the impression this is a friend date. Right?  
   
As Bucky shook the lady’s hand, offering the appropriate salutations as Ro’s brain short circuited, he flashed Ro a genuine smile. So, that title must have been okay.  
   
“What can I get you two?”  
   
“One chocolate peanut butter and one strawberry banana, please.”  
   
As Mrs. Travis ensured the order was taken care of by who appeared to be her teenage grandkids, she spun back around and spoke to Ro over the counter. “And, these will be on the house.”  
   
“Mrs. Travis,” Ro began her refute only to be immediately cut off.  
   
“Don’t _Mrs. Travis_ me,” this old lady had quite the sass on her, “you keep bringing him around and you’ll always find freebies.” Rowan couldn’t contain her laughter, out of true hilarity or embarrassment, who knows, as the lady shamelessly continued, “I _like_ him.”  
   
“Well, looks like we’ll be coming back,” Bucky confirmed as he nudged Ro in the shoulder as she finally managed to stifle her laughter.  
   
So, Bucky had no opposition to Ro calling him her date. And, he already planned on coming back to Custard’s _with_ Ro. So, this impromptu date wound up really settling with Ro as something rather...nice. Very nice.  
   
“Here you are,” Mrs. Travis joyfully spoke as she passed the two white styrofoam to-go cups to Rowan and Bucky. “Don’t be strangers, now!”  
   
Bucky startled Ro by responding adamantly, “oh, we’ll be back, Mrs. Travis!”  
   
Fortunately, Mrs. Travis was just too beside herself to notice Ro slipping a $20 into the tip jar. Or, so Ro thought. The old lady’s cheerfulness ceased instantaneously as she donned the look that only meant Ro was about to be chastised. In public. By Mrs. Travis. In the middle of Custard’s. While on a date. Wonderful. So, like any rational human being, Ro all but shoved Bucky out the door as Mrs. Travis berated with such speed Rowan was debating whether the lady was even speaking English.  
   
Walking across the one lane street and bike path to the boardwalk, Ro and Bucky were laughing at the encounter that just concluded.  
   
“Ah,” Bucky discreetly pointed toward a booth about 50 feet away, a game involving a toy rifle and a pyramid of cups, “there they are.”  
   
“Isn’t it cheating if it’s kind of their professions to be sharp shooters?”  
   
“True,” Bucky shrugged as he took a sip of his shake, “maybe we should go call ‘em out.”  
   
“Don’t you dare!” Rowan immediately linked her arm through Bucky’s left arm and forced him to the opposite side of the pier, allowing them to pass without incident.  
   
Bucky let out a faint laugh as he pulled his arm closer to his body with his left hand remaining pocketed (the man is still in denial about the public’s acceptance of his prosthetic), effectively pulling Ro slightly closer to him. Ro simply smiled back and remained satisfied with leaving her right arm linked with his.  
   
“Let’s sit there,” Ro tilted her white cup toward a bench at the end of the pier, facing the shore. “We can people watch.”  
   
The two sat in companionable silence, occasionally pointing out intriguing people for a good twenty minutes while nursing their shakes. Ro had more than half of the peanut butter chocolate; Bucky refused to call her out on it.  
   
Leaning to the right, Ro’s side was flush with Bucky’s from shoulder to knee. “Look at the guy in front of that booth,” Ro pointed to a bench to the right, approximately two booths down, “he’s so about to do the yawn-and-stretch-arm-around-the-girl move.”  
   
“Don’t do it, pal,” Bucky began critiquing in a similar hushed fashion, “that’s - oh, he’s going for it, he’s - oh ho, _success._ ”  
   
“I bet he’s talking about himself right now,” Ro continued, dropping her voice to a low mocking tone, “yeah, bro. I lettered in football.” Ro paused as Bucky began light laughter at Ro’s ‘guy voice.’ Having gained composure, she continued, “that’s how I got these guns.”  
   
As if the universe had an impeccable sense of humor, the guy on the bench lifted his arm (the one not involved in the yawn-and-stretch move) and flexed prompting the girl to reach for his bicep. Ro and Bucky give a genuine effort at stifling their laughter. The endeavor was moderately successful.  
   
In an awkwardly high pitch, Bucky voiced for the girl on the bench, “oh my gosh, can I feel?”  
   
Ro erupted into spontaneous laughter. That pitch should never emit from such a daunting man; yet, it just did. Of course, Ro’s hilarity only egged Bucky on.  
   
“I bet you’re the _best_ player on the team,” Bucky added with a ridiculous amount of whine before masking his smile behind a strategically timed sip of shake.  
   
Continuing the farce, Ro donned the deep voice once more, “yeah, I am. Third string kicker.”  
   
Both utterly abandoning the charade, Bucky and Ro are practically doubled over in whole hearted laughter. At this point, their amusement was feeding off the other, easily driven into hysterics by their date’s contagious emotion. Literally wiping tears from her eyes, Ro recovers last only to see Bucky shaking his head in sheer amusement of Ro’s antics. So, Ro responds the mature way by swapping their shakes once more.  
   
After a couple sips, Ro settled further back, leaning slightly into Bucky, just realizing that his arm was draped on the back of the bench. Ro considered jokingly asking if he utilized the yawn-and-stretch method. But, she was content. More than content. So, she could let his methodologies slide.  
   
Pointing with his cup, Bucky drew Ro’s gaze toward a middle aged couple who appeared less than pleased with one another. Clearing his throat, Bucky began with an uncharacteristically gruff voice, “babe, I don’t understand why you’re still upset about the grocery store.”  
   
With a higher pitched voice, channeling a slight whine, Ro leaned closer to Bucky as she voiced the woman, “the fact that you think I’m mad about the grocery store incident is _preposterous._ ”  
   
“Babe, what is it then?’  
   
Stifling a smile and covering her mouth with her cup, Ro continued, “and the fact that you _don’t even know_ is even worse.” Adding the cherry on top, Ro feigned a high pitched sob before Bucky took back over.  
   
“How am I supposed to know if you won’t even tell me?” The real couple was giving hand gestures that fit impeccably well with Buck and Ro’s fabricated plot. Good job, universe.  
   
“You’re supposed to read my mind, duh,” Ro donned full valley girl.  
   
“Women are complicated,” Bucky huffed out, retaining his gruff voice.  
   
“Women? Like, plural? You’re cheating on me-” In the universe’s form of hilarity, Ro suddenly snapped her mouth closed as the woman in question slapped the man with no forewarning.  
   
Buck and Ro just stared after the couple, the man frantically chasing the woman down the boardwalk, before Bucky broke the silent streak in complete seriousness. “Is it bad that I really want to laugh right now?”  
   
Shaking her head, Ro cupped her hand over her mouth to refrain from audibly laughing. Bucky laughed on his own accord, entertained by Ro’s whole hearted yet failing attempt at self control. After finally composing herself once more, Ro took a sip of the sweet protein concoction and gave a sad sigh upon hearing the crackling of air in the straw. Spotting a nearby trashcan, Ro launched the styrofoam through the air to utterly miss by a whopping two feet. They were sitting only six feet away.  
   
“Psh,” Bucky jested as he finished off his (really Ro’s) strawberry banana shake, “watch the expert.” With a one handed toss, Bucky managed to hit the rim of the trash can before the white cup seemingly decided to jump out and accompany Ro’s pitiful toss on the ground. “Damn.”  
   
Getting up to retrieve her trash, Ro jabbed back, “not such a hot shot now, are we?”  
   
“It was the wind,” Bucky demanded, “it messed with the trajectory.”  
   
There really was wind. And, it did have impeccable timing. But, Ro would never admit to that. Instead, she would provide a witty retort. Or, at least she would if she wasn’t making a valiant effort at hiding her face and walking to the far end of the pier behind the bench.  
   
In three swift strides, Bucky assumed a position on Ro’s left, “hey, what’s wrong?”  
   
“He’s here,” Ro spoke so soft that had Bucky not been granted with enhanced hearing, he probably wouldn’t have heard.  
   
“Who?”  
   
“My ex. With his friends.”  
   
Bucky hasn’t heard much about this infamous ex; but, from what he’s gathered, this guy was not pleasant company. Setting his jaw, Bucky discreetly scans the crowd, “blond guy at your six?”  
   
Nodding furiously and still making sure she remains hidden, Ro softly adds, “he can’t see me.” Bucky gives a slightly confused look, honestly curious about this situation that rapidly induced a polar opposite change in Ro. So, Ro elaborates, “he’s drunk. He’ll start something, especially with all his buddies to egg him on. I just want to get out of here.”  
   
Bucky continued scanning as the drunken bustling of the group of four guys made their way closer and closer to the end of the pier where Rowan was seeking refuge. Glancing over the edge of the dock, Buck offered, “well, we can always hop over the edge and swim to shore.”  
   
Managing a snort of a laugh (highly attractive, by the way), Ro replied, “‘cause _that’ll_ be inconspicuous.”  
   
There was one obvious out that Bucky quickly disregards: fight. The goal was to _not_ make a scene. As the barbaric group of guys approached the corner of the pier Rowan had lay claim to, Bucky realizes there’s no exit. So, he turned toward Ro and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, prompting her to spin into him.  
   
Rowan blindly complies, wrapping her arms around Bucky’s torso under his jacket while nestling her head against his chest, comfortably situated under his chin. While the jacket was primarily Bucky’s self reassurance that his prosthetic was covered despite the long sleeved shirt, Rowan was now thankful for the warmth it provided, not having realized how cold her bare arms had become due to the shakes.  
   
Relaxing further in his protective embrace, Ro shifts her feet forward, situating them between Bucky’s feet. Upon feeling Ro relax, Bucky shifted his flesh hand up and down Ro’s back, drawing abstract patterns and sloppy circles. Smiling against his chest, Ro took note how sturdy his physique _feels_ , prominent ridges and troughs of the muscular just underneath her head accented with radiant warmth emitting from every point of contact between their intertwined forms. By the way Ro’s mind responded to the embrace, one would think their bodies were meshed in nothing shy of a sinful manner.  
   
But, no, Rowan. This is called a hug. _Just_ a hug  
   
Shaking her lewd mental images from her mind, Ro realized the hooting and hollering of the boisterous crowd was subsiding.  
   
“I think they’re goin’.” Buck updated Ro; however, he didn’t shift a muscle, not even to lighten his grip. God, does this man know what he does to her?  
   
Biting her lip in what Ro assumed could only be nervousness, Ro untucked her head from the safe haven and leaned back enough to comfortably rest her hands on either side of his waist. His _sturdy_ waist. Bucky let his hands trace down Rowan’s arms until he held onto her forearms, gently anchoring her hands in place as if non-verbally requesting for her to _not_ let go.  
   
“Thank you,” Ro meekly mumbled.  
   
“No problem,” Bucky replied with a gentle smile that faded before he continued, “I’m sorry you have to deal with them.”  
   
Ro gave a vague nod as her appreciation was for more than just the chance encounter. What she meant was _thank you for being nothing shy of incredible in both the past and present. For being there for Steve both before and during the war. For having faith in me - not just a stranger, but a relative of someone who hurt you in the past - to repair your arm. For maintaining such positive resilience despite all the senseless jabs I dealt when we first met. For making Steve whole again. For giving us countless chances to become more than just some strained scientist-project relationship. For saving my life. For keeping me on my toes and making me laugh. For an amazing date. Just thank you for...everything._  
   
The sensation of Bucky’s warm hand against her jaw prompted Ro to look up and see Bucky’s eyes so full of emotion, specifically awe and admiration. It was exactly at that moment that Ro realized she had said all of that out loud. What happened to her filter? This man broke her brain-to-mouth filter.  
   
“I-I’m sorry,” Ro stumbled, trying to recover _something_ , “I didn’t mean to say all that.”  
   
“But,” Bucky began with gentle curiosity, “did you mean it?”  
   
Breathlessly, Ro spoke with incredible softness, “of course.”  
   
Daring eye contact, Rowan was met with those piercing blue grey eyes which were just about enough to make her heart skip a beat. It surely was enough to make her knees weaken which prompted her to solidify her grip on Bucky’s waist. In accordance with Ro’s subtle movement, Bucky shifted his metallic hand slowly up Ro’s arm, trailing goosebumps the entire way to her shoulder then down to her lower back.  
   
Ro returned the soft smile Bucky offered prompting him to pull her in closer, their bodies almost - but, not quite - as flush as they were earlier. Bucky slid his right hand under her ear and gently intertwined his fingers in Ro’s hair at the nape of her neck. Ro took a deep breath as she allowed her body to further relax into Bucky’s protective embrace, letting her head fall slightly back.  
   
Her eyes began to involuntarily close as Bucky lowered his head, decreasing the space between their lips to a mere inch, pausing as if to request permission. Green light, Buck, Ro thought. Permission granted. Ro tilted her head to the left and leaned forward just enough to brush her lips against his. Rowan felt the tension flood out of the man before her as Bucky confidently yet gently pressed their lips together. Never would Ro have theorized that a chaste closed mouth kiss like this would induce such warmth in her body, deep in her core, threatening to go lower with every second of being in contact with Bucky. Ro wanted more, wanted to test her body’s overwhelming response.  
   
Releasing the grip of her right hand, Rowan let her fingers abstractly trace up Bucky’s abdomen, over his chest, pausing over the juncture of his neck and shoulder just above his collarbone. Throwing caution to the wind, Ro parted her lips ever so slightly and grazed her tongue over Bucky’s bottom lip. The man’s response was downright invigorating; Bucky’s lips parted in response to Ro’s advance as if on instinct while his metallic limb whirred in ways Ro hadn’t even heard before, pulling her closer, her body flush against his.  
   
The proximity prompted Ro to shift her hand further, now firmly grasping at the nape of his neck, desperate for any purchase on those brown locks. Bucky skillfully pulled at Ro’s bottom lip until he could gently pinch the flesh between his teeth prompting her seemingly involuntarily reaction in the form of a sharp tug of his hair with her right hand. Ro snapped her eyes open as she parted their lips, suddenly unsure of her spontaneous action; however, the absolute sinful moan that fell from Bucky’s lips told her no harm had been done. Quite the opposite, actually. When his eyes fell open, heavily lidded from a lust filled stupor, Ro was faced with blown pupils and a slowly forming smirk.  
   
Still parted, Ro maintained her gaze as she gave another experimental tug on his hair to which he promptly replied with that same moan. Oh, how Ro wanted to identify every action of hers that could elicit that sound from Bucky. His tongue darting across his bottom lip just about threw Ro over the edge, to hell with frowning upon public displays of affection, to hell with-  
   
The vibration in Ro’s back pocket made her jump. Literally. She would have headbutted Bucky if it wasn’t for his impeccable reflexes.  
   
“It’s Steve,” Ro spoke, her voice sounding foreign from not having used it in what simultaneously feels like an eternity and mere seconds.  
   
“Oh, yeah,” Bucky sounded like he genuinely forgot what they were doing on the pier to begin with. In his defense, Ro had long forgotten their actual location entirely. All she knew was she was in his arms.  
   
“He said they’re waiting at the shore-end of the pier,” Ro surmised as another text vibrated her phone once more. “And, he’s also worried because evidently you didn’t answer your phone earlier?”  
   
“I didn’t bring it,” Bucky admitted to which Ro shot him a pointed look, a look that was rather difficult to maintain when staring at those kiss swollen lips and lust blown eyes. Smirking as if understanding Ro’s difficulty to concentrate, Bucky leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Ro’s lips before turning toward the pier entrance, “doll, shall we?”  
   
“We shall,” Ro giddily replied as she pocketed her phone and linked her arm through his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do we think?


	12. Let's Get Outta Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationship fluff because I can:)

“Hey, pretty lady.”  
   
The sound of Bucky’s voice brought about an involuntary smile on Ro’s face. Turning around in her stool, she spun to face the newly entered occupant of the lab and the individual of her now unbridled affection.   
   
“Hey, yourself.”  
   
“What are you up to?”  
   
“Well, I just received some pretty exciting news,” Ro spoke through a smile she was genuinely struggling to contain within acceptable parameters (as in not giddily jumping up and down on the nearest lab table). While trying to maintain her facade of a reasonable human being, Ro inquired, “any idea where Steve is? He’ll want in on this.”  
   
Furrowing his brows in evident intrigue, Bucky responded, “he just left for the downtown office. Something Fury demanded.”   
   
“Of course Fury _demanded,_ ” Ro rolled her eyes before glancing toward the ceiling. “FRIDAY, is the rest of the team preoccupied?”  
   
“Yes, boss. Everyone aside from Mr. Stark is off site.”  
   
“Thanks, FRI.” Jumping from her stool, Ro looped her right arm through Bucky’s, effectively driving the man into the elevator backwards. “I’ve got an idea.”  
   
“But, what’s the big news?”  
   
“Let’s take a ride first,” Ro slowly began, attempting to stall momentarily, “shall we?” Ro knows she shouldn’t exploit Bucky’s unwavering compliance to her shenanigans; but, she knows deep down the man enjoys being an accomplice. And, so does she. Especially when it’s him.   
   
Taking two strategic steps, Bucky positioned himself behind Ro, wrapping his arms protectively around her torso before suggestively whispering into her ear. “What are you scheming now, doll?”  
   
“Hmm,” Ro slowly began with feigned ignorance, “what would you think about, oh, I dunno,” pausing for dramatic flare, Ro exited the now halted elevator into the garage and dramatically sauntering to the seven motorcycles. “A joy ride?”  
   
“Well, don’t you know the way to a man’s heart,” Buck responded through a smile that was both downright sinful and elated. Damn this man and his expressive smirks.   
   
Through a smirk of her own, Rowan tossed Bucky a reinforced leather jacket and helmet. In response to the proffered gear, Bucky gave a look of disapproval, evidently gauging whether or not it was worth arguing the necessity of said gear but electing to not test Ro’s unwavering stubbornness. Having donned the black and red jacket, holding the matching helmet under his arm, Buck immediately glanced up upon hearing the revving of an engine.   
   
“Gonna join me, Sarge?”   
   
Ro was impressed with the level of insinuation she managed to muster. She was even more impressed by the impact it evidently had on Buck who took an unwarranted deep breath before flashing a you-know-better brow raise as he slipped the helmet on and mounted the bike.   
   
Of course Ro’s heart rate didn’t spike to a medically deemed dangerous level as Bucky’s hands locked on her hips. And of course her breath didn’t hitch as those sturdy hands slid over her stomach for a more reasonable grip. And of course Ro didn’t have to remind herself how to breath solely because the Adonis of a man pressed up behind her.   
   
“So, who’s bike are we hijacking?” Ro jumped as Bucky all but yelled his question.   
   
“Dammit, Buck,” Ro began as she shook her head, stifling a laugh, “we have comms in the helmet. Normal volume, please.”   
   
“Oh, whoops,” Buck replied (thankfully at a lowered volume) before inquiring again, “who’s bike is this?”  
   
Ro advanced the bike up the ramp to the ground level garage exit before confessing, “Steve’s.” Pulling onto the busy road, Ro could hear Buck laugh.   
   
“Should’ve guessed with all the patriotic gear.” The man had a point; there were subtle visual references of stars and stripes on the helmet and jacket Bucky was wearing.   
   
“He wanted me to add the _classic A_ on the front of the helmet,” Ro added in disapproval as she accelerated up the highway entrance ramp.   
   
“No,” Buck groaned out, evidently in disbelief of his childhood friend’s choice of style.   
   
“That’s what I told him, too,” Ro laughed out as they settled at a comfortable cruising speed, leaving the tower dwindling in the distance.   
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
After 30 minutes of Ro critiquing Bucky’s lyrics and Bucky critiquing Ro’s pitch, Ro turned the bike off while the horrendous charade of a duet continued. Having shucked her gear nearby, Ro flopped onto her back atop a small hill, surrounded by nothing but the untamed grass of her secret escape of the bustling city. While the sun was still far from setting, the sun’s rays cast a vibrancy over the greenery that promised a memorable painting.    
   
Settling on his back to Ro’s left, Buck gave a decent five minutes before interrupting the welcomed serenity. “So, what’s this exciting news?”  
   
“Well, your new prosthetic is complete and I’ve organized a date for your surgery,” Ro smiled, tilting her head to the left to gauge the super soldier’s reaction.  
   
“Oh.” His expression lit up with pleasant surprise and anticipation. “When is it?”  
   
“Day after tomorrow, 6 A.M.” Ro’s smile fell as Buck contorted his expression into that of contemplation.  
   
“Hmm.” That didn’t sound positive. “How long will I have to fast for?”  
   
“Uh, I’m guessing about 12 hours,” Ro answered despite being genuinely curious as that was not the expected first question. “Why?”  
   
“That may be a problem.”  
   
“What?” Ro was confused. I mean, it’s not like this guy has any unavoidable day-to-day plans aside from being confined to the tower...which don’t include Ro’s kidnappings for spontaneous joy rides.  
   
“That kind of interferes with my plans.”  
   
“Buck.” Ro immediately rolled to her left, hefting herself onto her left elbow for a better angle to flash him the famous you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “I am flying out the physician most familiar with super solider physiology from China, the best orthopedic surgeon in this _hemisphere_ in from California, and the best neurosurgeon _of all time_ in from England. All in two days. You better have one _hell_ of a reason for asking me to postpone this surgery.”  
   
The man smiled. _Smiled._ Oh, if he wasn’t such a gentleman constructed by Aphrodite herself, Ro would be yelling at the man for being such a damn inconvenience.  
   
“Well,” Buck slowly began as if readying an important business proposal, “I was hoping to take you on a proper date at a nice restaurant tomorrow night.” Oh, well, this changes things. “But, if the doc says no food…” Buck elected to finish his thought with an inconclusive shrug before morphing into a hopeful smile.  
   
“Uh,” Ro began, struggling to recover herself in a decent speed, allowing the pending smile and flush to come in full force. “First, yes. I would love to go on a proper date with you. But, how about let’s postpone _those_ plans and make tomorrow’s date a movie night...sans popcorn?”  
   
“Alright, I guess I can settle for that,” Buck jested with nonchalance that was utterly contrasted by the lopsided grin plastered across his face.  
   
“Oh, you’ll have to _settle_ for that?” Ro scooted further toward Bucky, placing her right hand on his chest, walking her fingers upward as she continued, “ _Settle_ for a night of just you, me, and 50 Disney movies that have been released since the 40’s?”  
   
Dropping all pretense, Buck’s face emitted nothing but shock as he clarified, “ _50?_ ”  
   
“Out of everything I just said, _that’s_ what you latched onto?” Buck gave a noncommittal shrug as he tried, and failed, at stifling a smile as Ro finally answered. “But, yeah, there’s been a ton. The last one you and Stevie saw was _Snow White_ , right?”  
   
“Yeah,” he replied before furrowing his brows in confusion, “he told you-”  
   
“Yes, he told me about you trying to act all cool but how you genuinely _loved_ the film.”  
   
“Pshh.” Solid defense, Buck.  
   
“Oh, don’t even start with me, Barnes!”  
   
Bucky let out a laugh that went straight to Ro’s core. That genuine, wholehearted laugh that forced his eyes shut and could be felt throughout his entire torso. The one that Ro is always striving to elicit from him.  
   
Having momentarily recovered, Bucky shifted his right arm up to Ro’s back, allowing him to trace abstract shapes as he inquired more about this date. “So, which ones are on the docket?”  
   
“Well,” Ro began in genuine contemplation, shifting her weight off her elbow, placing both hands on Bucky’s chest before letting her chin follow suit. “We can’t miss the classics like _The Lion King_ and _Sleeping Beauty_ and _Toy Story._ ” Even as Ro paused, Bucky maintained his focus with genuine interest. “Oh, we can watch the original _Beauty and the Beast_ then the live action remake that came out a couple years back.”  
   
“Live action?” Right, Ro’s talking to a fossil.  
   
“Instead of computer generated animated characters, they use real actors.” Ro elaborated as Bucky shot a skeptical look, “You’ll just have to see it; the industry’s technology is amazing.” Suddenly Ro’s eyes widened as she popped her head up, “oh, and we’ll have to watch _Finding Nemo-_ ”  
   
“Because of the ‘finding Bucky’ joke on that one shirt you were wearing?”  
   
“Exactly,” Ro shamelessly admits, flashing a similar smirk that she was dealt.  
   
“Sounds like we have a lot on the list,” Buck concluded.  
   
“Way too many for just one night.”  
   
“Don’t see a problem with that at all, doll,” Buck added with a smile before subconsciously licking his lips.  
   
Or maybe it _wasn’t_ subconscious. Maybe he did it on purpose because he’s aware of the effect it has on Ro. The effect of drawing her attention to nothing but his mouth, recalling the night on the pier such a short while ago.  
   
“Neither do I,” Ro quickly replied before she forgot the conversation topic.  
   
When Ro shifted her gaze back to those grey blue eyes, she was met with a question. A question in the form of Bucky’s gaze shifting down to her own lips. Non verbally responding with the affirmative, Ro leaned forward, meeting Bucky half way and it’s suddenly like that first kiss all over again. But, without the hesitance. Just comfortable familiarity despite this still being so new.  
   
As Ro tilted her head to the right, aligning their lips once more, it was Bucky this time who lightly fluttered his tongue over Ro’s top lip to which Ro let out an involuntary whimper as she granted him access. After forgetting himself momentarily in the moment, Bucky paused the kiss, tilting his chin lower to gently nuzzle under Ro’s chin prompting her to tilt her head, further exposing her neck. Lips ghosting over her pulse point with a feather light touch, Ro had to mentally focus on breathing, lest she forget.  
   
The warmth of an expelled breath against Rowan’s neck immediately followed by the pressure of his lips was enough to elicit a moan of Bucky’s name that sounded like a curse and a prayer all rolled into one. With such little effort, this man drove Ro _wild_.  
   
“Doll.” Ro’s eyes snapped open upon hearing Bucky’s voice, sounding so thoroughly debauched after something so simple. “Those little noises you make...” he left off the remainder of his thought; but, Ro caught the general gist in the way his eyes fluttered closed, he audibly swallowed, and his hand clenched harder onto her hip. Evidently Rowan had the same effect on Bucky.  
   
Licking his lips once more, Bucky smiled as he opened his eyes, meeting Rowan’s. “You make it very difficult to... _want_ to maintain control.” To that admission, Ro flashed a smirk.  
   
“Good to know the feeling’s mutual,” Ro offered as she felt a blush form on her cheeks utterly against her will.  
   
“Careful with those noises of yours,” Bucky suggestively added as Ro leaned in for a painfully slow open mouthed kiss. Ro smiled into his mouth as she heard the tell tale whirring of the contracting prosthetic Buck now had anchored to the grass as if the greenery would provide him adequate strength to resist temptation.  
   
“Then, watch what you do with that mouth...Sergeant.”  
   
“I’m afraid,” feigning innocence, Bucky nosed his way back to Ro’s neck, offering an occasional nip after every couple words, “I don’t...know what...you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”  
   
Through a laugh at Bucky’s antics, Ro jabbed, “not helping.”  
   
Nearly laughing himself, Buck leaned back and splayed his arms outward in a dramatic show of keeping his hands off Ro as he nodded, “you’re right, ma’am.” Ro just shook her head before cuddling herself between his right arm and chest once more.  
   
After a short companionable silence in each other’s embrace, Bucky quietly confessed, “I never said thank you for letting me hover in your lab for all those weeks.”  
   
“Oh, I think if anything, I owe you an apology for all the sass I gave you during those weeks,” Ro admitted.  
   
Through a light laugh that Ro could feel reverberate through Buck’s chest, he prodded, “I’m serious, though. I learned a lot of interesting things from you.”  
   
“I was genuinely impressed with how easily you picked up on everything.”  
   
“It’s the serum,” Bucky concluded as he stilled his right hand against Ro’s back and began lazily drawing patterns along Ro’s bent right arm.  
   
“How so?”  
   
“Near photographic memory.”  
   
“I dunno about that.” While photographic memory would be highly impressive, Ro has another theory. One that requires sitting up and engaging Bucky’s full attention because Ro is dying to see his reaction. “Steve said you were always a closet science nerd back in the day.” The surprise quickly masked by a smirk made the readjustment worthwhile.  
   
“Shh,” Buck began through an actual whisper, “can’t let the ladies know. It’ll take away from the rough and tough façade I’ve spent all this time creating.”  
   
“Well, intelligence is a highly attractive quality in a man,” Ro countered, going along with this charade.  
   
“In that case,” Buck corrected, “Einstein two-point-oh at your service, ma’am.”  
   
“And arrogance is not!” Laughing, Ro rolled onto her back.  
   
“Eh, worth a shot,” Buck laughed out, holding out his right arm, allowing Ro to easily slot herself between his arm and body.  
   
“So, I’ve taught you all this useless information; what are you going to teach me?”  
   
“Uh, give me some parameters.”  
   
“Something you enjoy,” Ro offered.  
   
Bucky hummed in thought before offering a hesitant answer, “well, I like shooting. Specifically sniping. And knife work as weird as that sounds.” He paused as if considering adding to the list; therefore, Ro patiently waited. “And...cooking. I honestly enjoy cooking.”  
   
“Buck,” Ro spoke flatly as she glanced to the left, waiting for Bucky to look over before continuing. “Between the two of us, I am _definitely_ the better cook…”  
   
Holding up both hands, albeit despite the strained position, in feigned defense, Buck elaborated, “you just asked what I enjoy doing. By no means should I be teaching you to cook because _that_ is a true statement.”  
   
After they both recover from a short bought of laughter, Ro concluded, “then teach me the others.”  
   
“Sniping and knife work?” Bucky’s tone was of disbelief, genuinely not understanding why someone would _want_ to learn those skills.  
   
“Yeah, I mean,” Ro continued in a quieter tone, “if it means time with you doing something you enjoy, why not?”  
   
“Alright.” A smile slowly formed on Bucky’s face in understanding until he was practically beaming, suddenly thankful they had both reverted their gazes back to the orange and pink watercolor painted sky.  
   
“I,” Ro paused in uncertainty before softly continuing, “I have a question; but, I’m not sure if you’d be comfortable talking about it.”  
   
“You can ask me anything, sweetheart.” Bucky was mildly surprised by the admission that he so easily just spoke; however, he was more surprised by the truth behind it. He suddenly realized he genuinely felt _that_ comfortable with this lady. Maybe it was due to the knowledge that she thoroughly read his files. But, no, Buck thought. It’s some combination of trust and an unusual desire for transparency.  
   
“Just promise if it makes you uncomfortable, you’ll say so, okay?”  
   
Buck settled for his perfected eyebrow raise when Ro glanced his way, indicating in a way words cannot that he is legitimate about asking him anything.  
   
“ _Okay._ You’re serum,” Ro paused as if half expecting to be cut off. “I’ve noted it’s enhanced your strength... _obviously_.” Ro smiled as that emphasis earned a silent chuckle from Buckster. “But, what about your senses. Like sight?”  
   
The question took Bucky off guard; no one’s explicitly asked him that before. Hell, he hadn’t really given it much consideration himself. “Well, my vision was 20/20 to begin with; but, there’s a notable improvement with night vision.”  
   
“What about hearing? Or sense of smell?”  
   
“I think my hearing is just below Steve’s; sometimes he’ll hear someone approaching before I can.” Bucky paused, trying to stifle a smile before he continued nonchalantly, “but, I can smell fear.”  
   
Whipping her head toward the super soldier, Ro needed affirmation. “ _What?_ ”  
   
Bucky erupted in laughter, unable to continue the fib any longer. Like the mature adult she is, Ro began relentlessly jabbing her left elbow into Bucky’s ribs, forcing the man to squirm away nearly a foot just to receive mercy. The Winter Soldier is ticklish. Duly noted.  
   
Having deemed herself victorious, Ro decided to continue with the questions while the former assassin attempted to gain composure. “What about retaining muscle mass?”  
   
“As in no muscle atrophy?”  
   
“Yeah, like Steve,” Ro offered, choosing to elaborate when Bucky responded with silence. “He only works out, primarily cardio, to maintain his lung capacity, not muscle.”  
   
Suddenly, Bucky was on his right elbow, closer to Ro which she would have been _pleasantly_ surprised if it weren’t for the scowl on his face. And, damn that man can move fast. “Are you shittin’ me right now?”  
   
“Uh...no?”  
   
“That punk doesn’t lose muscle if he doesn’t work out?”  
   
“No. So, I take it you do?”  
   
“Yeah,” Buck demanded as he softened his expression into a smirk as he raised his metallic arm before continuing, “this is all hard earned, doll.”  
   
“So attractive,” Ro deadpanned, providing the pretense of carelessness while her blush gave her away. Curse her body’s physiology. “What about,” Ro began as she took his metallic hand in hers, applying more pressure than one normally would so he could better feel the sensation, “your healing factor?”  
   
Scrunching his face in thought (and in a way Ro found downright adorable), Buck estimated, “around 80% faster than average.”  
   
“Better than Steve’s,” before Ro could even continue, Buck lit up in pride, “his is around 60-65%.”  
   
“Damn straight,” Buck commanded, schooling his expression to what Ro’s assuming was a failed attempt at appearing stern.  
   
“Oh, now it’s a competition?” Their laughter was cut off my Ro’s phone chirping prompting her to fish the device out from her back pocket. “Speaking of the devil,” she huffed out before sliding the answer bar, “hello?”  
   
Unidentifiable yelling spewed through the line to which Ro pulls the offensive device away from her abused ear and shouts back, “woah, calm down! Didn’t catch an ounce of that.” Tapping once for speakerphone, Ro continued, “try again, Cap.”  
   
“He’s gone,” Ro was floored by the sheer level of dread and desperation in Steve’s voice. “Where are you? We need your help.”  
   
“I’ve got him.”  
   
The line went silent. Or, more accurately, Steve’s nervous mouth breathing ceased and was replaced by frustration. “What? Where? Tony is furious!”  
   
“Tell Tony he can stick a cork in it,” Ro calmly demanded. “We’ll be back within...oh, 30 minutes.”  
   
“No,” Captain America demanded, “now!”  
   
“Unless you want me to channel my inner Natasha while I drive, it’s gonna be 30 minutes.” Nat was a real maniac on the road. A safe maniac. But, a maniac nonetheless.  
   
“Rowan Stark, just get both of you back here in one piece.”  
   
“Okie dokie,” Ro cheerily added.  
   
The static filled breath sounds were indicated of a super soldier size sigh of defeat before Steve somberly spoke, “I love you, Ro.”  
   
“Love you, too, Stevie.” Ro smiled; she managed to break Cap. Again.  
   
“Hey,” Bucky butted in with feigned offense, “love you, punk.”  
   
“Buck!” Oh now the blond man’s all emotional. “I didn’t know you could hear.”  
   
“Loud and clear, Rogers.”  
   
“Love you, too, jerk.”  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
After a sudden tightening of arms around her core, Ro smirked as she jested, “woah there, Sarge. Gettin’ handsy.”  
   
“You’re driving like a bat outta hell!” Was that genuine fear Ro heard? “Thought for sure you were going to sideswipe that minivan.”  
   
“Course not,” Ro nonchalantly spoke as she weaved through two cars, bypassing a Porsche with scarce amounts of clearance. Bucky didn’t approve. “What? You don’t trust me?”  
   
“Probably trust you more than you trust me.”  
   
Buck’s admission hit Ro like a stone. “You don’t think I trust you?” The silence Ro received was both shocking and enough of an answer for her.  
   
Having arrived at a decent straight away and ensuring no cars were in the direct vicinity, Ro released the throttle and grasped Bucky’s right hand, replacing it on the handle where hers just resided. Despite Bucky’s inquiries of “uh?”, Ro did the same with his left hand as she let her helmet slide to rest gently, albeit bulkily, on his left shoulder, giving him a clear view of the road and Ro a clear view of the slowly darkening sky. Ro emphasized her faith in Bucky by shifting her arms back, hooking her thumbs in the side belt loops of Bucky’s jeans, putting the entirety of her safety in his hands.  
   
But, Bucky has his moments. He can be a little shit at times. So, the man revved the engine. Ro could feel the speed increase and hear the bike getting closer to peaking out of fifth gear. Listening intently, Ro identified the obvious sound of the throttle’s release and clutch’s pull; in perfect sync, with a swift flick of her left foot, the bike was thrown into the next gear, allowing Bucky to take the bike even faster.  
   
Through a laugh, Buck began with slight disbelief, “alright, hot shot. Streets gettin’ crowded. You take over.”  
   
Ro complied, smiling to herself due to the success of her most recent antics. Bucky’s hands shifted back around her waist after giving a slight squeeze of a hug; Ro would be lying if she said that didn’t make her stomach flutter. But, that was not what she needed to be thinking of right now. She needed to focus on the torturous weaving between cabs and clueless pedestrians of the cities inner networks.  Gah, curse the public.  
   
“Oh boy,” Ro softly let out as they pulled into the garage to see none other than Captain America standing _in_ the exact space his motorcycle _should_ be.  
   
After an awkwardly silent time of removing the gear and properly parking the bike to Steve’s high standards, Ro and Bucky stood shoulder to shoulder facing Steve who had his shoulders back and arms crossed in an intimidating stance. It took every ounce of self control for Ro not to laugh. She felt like she and her partner in crime had just been called into the principal’s office for chastising.  
   
“Care to explain yourselves?”  
   
Ro bit her cheek to conceal laughter before opening her mouth to respond; however, she was interrupted by Bucky.  
   
“I just wanted to get out, get some fresh air,” Buck began softly before tucking his head down as he continued, “you know, before I’m cooped up for the surgery in less than 48 hours. Sorry, Stevie.” Well, damn that man can lay on the emotion when he wants to.  
   
“Wait, surgery?” Suddenly, all of Steve’s stoic demeanor was gone.  
   
“Just heard back from the docs,” Ro elaborated, “they’re all available day after tomorrow.”  
   
“Oh…” Steve looks downright subdued. Well done, Buckaroo. No more chastising from Captain America.  
   
Steve nodded to himself as he turned toward the elevator with Ro and Bucky in tow. Before they entered the lift, Bucky flashed a devilish smirk to which Ro mouthed _suck up_. After piling in the chrome enclosure, all Bucky responded with was a wink. Oh, he’s good. 


	13. Rearmament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone thought a minor surgery would hold Bucky's sass at bay, think again. 
> 
> Please DO NOT use anything you read here as valid medical advice. Now that I've stolen valuable seconds of your time with my obligatory medical CYA shenanigan, enjoy the story!

“I’m back,” Ro softly spoke as she stepped back into the operating room to see Bucky and Steve sitting exactly how she left them. Steve was murmuring reassurances while crouched at Bucky’s feet as the brunette slouched in a chair, elbows on his knees and face cradled in his hands.  
   
“What’d they say?”  
   
Ro smiled as she removed a capped syringe full of milky white anesthetic from her pocket. “Cho and her team agreed that if it’d make you more comfortable, Stevie or I could administer it.”   
   
Bucky nodded in recognition as he took the proffered syringe, analyzing the offending contents as he spoke barely audibly, “every time I’ve gone under this way, it’s years later when I finally wake up.”  
   
Steve took a sharp inhalation in evident discomfort regarding Bucky’s stint with Hydra. Both men had voiced their concerns with the anesthetic; however, they also understood this was the only way. The internal electrical network of the original prosthetic was heavily innervated with Bucky’s spinal cord in a truly tortuous way, never to be removed or replaced. However, the new and improved prosthetic’s electrical workings would connect wirelessly to a small spinal implant. So, the irremovable archaic wires _needed_ to be removed. Local anesthetic would not suffice. Bucky must be _completely_ put under.  
   
“We won’t let that happen to you,” Ro spoke softly as she sat on the left armrest of Bucky’s chair, stroking her right hand in abstract circles on his back.  
   
“We promise,” Steve added reassuringly.  
   
After a contemplative pause, Bucky gave Ro a sad smile, “I know.” Passing the syringe back to Rowan, he nodded as he wiped his clammy hands against his sweatpants clad thighs before concluding, “I’m ready.” Bucky extended his right arm, exposing the previously inserted intravenous catheter to allow for the administration of the anesthetic.  
   
“Um, Buck,” Ro spoke, not able to conceal her smile as the brunette super soldier glanced toward her. “I mean, Steve _can_ carry you to the table; but, I think it’d be a little easier if you lay down _before_ I knock you out.”   
   
Through a half-hearted laugh, Buck nodded as he stood and made his way to the operating table as Steve, on the right side, slid back the sheets for his friend to climb up. Cho and her team did an excellent job of diminishing the daunting qualities of an operating room. The operating table could easily be classified as a bed, the always wonderful backless gown was replaced with comfortable sweatpants, and the team had approved of Steve and Ro being present for however long Bucky desired.   
   
“Would now be a bad time to make a joke about getting you out of your shirt?”  
   
Steve shot Ro a sharp look of disapproval at her ill timed joke. Bucky laughed, an honest laugh. Mission accomplished, Ro thought.   
   
“Never a bad time, doll,” Buck smirked before he suggestively shimmied out of his t-shirt as he sat on the bed, eliciting an impressive eye roll from Steve and an inconcealable blush from Ro.   
   
“Oh, Stevie, you know you love us,” Ro jabbed as Bucky bat his eyelashes toward the blond. That received a groaned mumble of agreement from Steve that Ro nearly missed as she unnecessarily readjusted the thin pillow at the head of the bed. “Alright, Buck, make yourself as comfortable as you can.”  
   
Bucky shifted his hips down the bed slightly before reclining until his head gently met the pillow. “I can think of one thing that’d make me even more comfortable,” he softly added, barely curling his lips into a faint smile.   
   
“And, what might that be?”  
   
“Well,” Bucky began with a slowly growing smirk as he gently grasped Ro’s hand with his left, “if a beautiful dame decided to join me on this oh-so-comfortable hospital bed.”  
   
Laughing (and completely ignoring Steve’s reddening cheeks), Ro held Bucky’s hand within her own as she glanced down to those grey blue eyes, “Sergeant, I think you’re stalling.”   
   
Bucky opened his mouth to provide a witty retort but was immediately interrupted by Steve who was evidently getting tired of the flirting. In all honestly, he grew up with the man, Steve should be used to it by now.   
   
“Buck,” Steve mumbled through hands that managed to find his face in the world’s most dramatic face palm. Through Bucky’s nervous laugh, Rowan passed the syringe to Steve who just starred at the object as if it spontaneously grew a face and started yelling at him.   
   
Shaking her head at Steve’s helplessness, Ro reluctantly released Bucky’s hand and leaned over his torso to screw on the syringe to the IV’s hub. “Steve, when Buck gives you the ready, slowly push the plunger, okay?”  
   
Steve glanced toward Ro with an expression that would give the impression Ro just kicked a puppy. And said puppy was Steve. “Why me?”  
   
“Because you’re standing on his right,” Ro said with a monotone voice, continuing when Steve’s hurtful expression didn’t cease, “and I’m on his left…”  
   
“Stevie,” Buck said softly, prompting the blond to shift his gaze (not altering his expression) to the man lying in the bed. “My left arm’s not real,” Buck deadpanned.  
   
“Jerk,” Steve huffed through a slight smile.  
   
“Alright, punk,” Buck smiled as he readjusted on his pillow. “You ready?”  
   
“Are you?” Steve’s tone was slightly joking; however, they all knew it was meant literal.   
   
“I don’t know if I ever will be,” Bucky admitted as he refused to meet anyone’s gaze.   
   
“Try and relax, Buck,” Steve softly spoke as two fingers shifted over Bucky’s wrist, finding his radial pulse to ensure his childhood friend was heeding to his request.  
   
“Easier said than done, pal.” Bucky flashed a weak smile to no one in particular, evidently forced, as the mechanics of his prosthetic gently whirred as a physical manifestation of his nervousness.   
   
“We’re here with you,” Ro spoke as she placed her left hand on his chest, effectively garnering his attention. She took a half step toward the head of the bed and, reaching with her right hand, ran her fingers through his hair, “and we’ll be here when you wake up, too.”  
   
“Promise?” Bucky’s voice was barely audible yet full of uncertainty; had Ro not been so close, she very well could have missed his plea.   
   
“Promise,” Ro quietly confirmed, like a hushed prayer, as she leaned toward Bucky and, without hesitation, pressed her lips against his. The man didn’t hesitate to strengthen the kiss, evidently in desperate need for the physical reassurance.   
   
Only after Ro paused for a slight breath, not even breaking contact, Bucky mumbled against her lips, “Stevie, now,” before advancing for one more kiss.  
   
Ro shifted her head ever so slightly to their noses occasionally brushed together before reaffirming, “I promise.” The smile in Bucky’s eyes was slowly overcome by heavy lids, the medication induced exhaustion now warmly welcomed after the physical reassurance.   
   
Leaning back to a standing position, yet refusing to shift her hand from Bucky’s hair, Ro took a deep breath before glancing toward Steve. And, boy, was Steve’s expression priceless. Overshadowing his nerves was evident amusement as Steve silently pointed between Ro and Bucky, all but voicing his evident series of questions. It wasn’t until precisely at that moment that Ro realized she and Bucky hadn’t told anyone that they were...well, whatever it is they were.  
   
“Later,” Ro answered through a blushing smile. “Can you let the docs know he’s ready?”  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
The first thing Bucky recalled after the kiss with Ro was the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. He desperately tried to keep his mind calm, trying to differentiate his current situation from those of his past. There was no pain, even within his left shoulder which nearly always had a dull throbbing ache in the past. There was only a numb pull on his left shoulder rendering him unable to readily identify the limb’s location. He desperately wanted to open his eyes to solve the enigma that was his left limb; however, his fear of waking up in a different time superseded his curiosity.  
   
But, there was an abnormality with his right arm. His arm was substantially heavier, to the point of eliciting a tingling feeling in his fingers. Could that have been from the drugs? No drugs; he didn’t want any more drugs. The rapid beeping of the heart monitor prompted another sound - a light shuffling to his left. That piqued his curiosity and worry enough to open his eyes.  
   
“Buck?”  
   
“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was rough, throat dry and in need of water.  
   
“You alright?”  
   
“Yeah,” Buck replied although his statement was more of a question. When the tingling in the fingers of his right hand returned, he suddenly glanced down to see a swath of long brown hair over his forearm and part of his stomach. Immediately, he smiled, recognizing Ro’s sleeping scrunched face, half hidden by her hair and left arm haphazardly draped over Buck’s stomach. “Yeah, I am.”  
   
Steve followed Buck’s gaze, speaking so quietly only enhanced hearing could hear to ensure he wouldn’t wake Ro, “she hasn’t left your side. Not once.”  
   
“How long?”  
   
Holding a water cup with the straw accessible for his friend, Steve replied, “eight and a half hours.” Buck choked on his water, genuinely surprised at the extended duration yet highly appreciative that Ro had stayed the entire time. “Took a little while longer to separate some of the wires from the...well, I’m really not sure what. Ro tried to explain it all to me. But, she confirmed that there’s nothing made by Hydra left in you now.” With a slight chuckle, Steve added, “it’s all Rowan-made.”  
   
Feeling a tension - that he was unaware he held - release, Bucky smiled, “good.” Glancing down to get a direct look at the new prosthetic, Bucky saw the black and grey mesh of the custom crafted metal. It was within a sturdy white sling, held against his upper abdomen, just above Ro’s outstretched arm.  
   
Once again reading his friend’s mind, Steve explained, “she said it’s not...on? Or _active_...yet.”  
   
“What?”  
   
Steve ran a hand over his face; he knew he should have paid closer attention to Ro’s descriptions earlier. This tech just wasn’t his forte. Clearly. “Something about being worried about over stimulation if you woke up with all the new sensations with the feelings that you’ll be able to...uh, feel with this arm that you, I guess, couldn’t with the other one…”  
   
“Please continue,” Bucky calmly spoke, stifling a smile, “this is entertaining.”  
   
“Jerk,” Steve laughed out as he stood and walked around the hospital bed and shut the door, ignoring Bucky’s attempt at stifling laughter. “We need to talk,” he cryptically stated as he crossed his arms over his chest. Cue Captain America stance.  
   
“What is it, ma?”  
   
“I’m serious, Buck.”  
   
Well, shit; someone’s in trouble. Bucky just nodded, face void of all prior emotion.  
   
“You and Ro,” Steve stated quietly, finally making his way back to his seat to Bucky’s left before continuing. “What’s going on there? And, since when?”  
   
Bucky smiled as he sensed amusement hidden below the protective nature of Steve’s questions. “On the double date, before we all met up to go to the bar, we kissed and, uh-”  
   
“Are you blushing?” Steve inquired, not caring that he interrupted the man in the least.  
   
“Shut up, punk,” Bucky jabbed, rolling his eyes yet not denying his flush.  
   
“You’re starting to sound like me,” Steve jested. “Since when do you let the dames get ya all flustered?”  
   
Shaking his head, Bucky thought a little before answering, not breaking his gaze from the still sleeping Ro, “since her.” Glancing toward Steve, Bucky saw the blond’s smile fall as he realized his childhood friend was serious. “Something about her that’s different than the rest. Can’t put my finger on it; but, it’s _something_ about her. She’s a special one, Stevie.” Letting out a light laugh, he continued, “and, hell, we haven’t even been on a proper date.”  
   
“Have you asked her?”  
   
“Yes, _Steve_ ,” Buck sighed back in feigned annoyance, “the surgery interrupted our plans.”  
   
“Priorities, pal.”  
   
Bucky shot Steve a pointed look that fully expressed his preference to take Ro on a proper date rather than have the surgery.  
   
“Well,” Steve began, crossing his arms once more, conjuring some sort of authority and confidence in that simple movement. “She means alot to me. And, she’s been through quite a bit with both family and past relationships. Despite all that, she’s an _incredible_ person. I guess what I’m saying is that-”  
   
“Stevie, I know I don’t deserve her-”  
   
“That’s not what I’m getting at. You both deserve to be happy. Hell, you’ve both been to your own versions of hell and back. Maybe I should have seen this coming sooner. Just..” Steve took a deep breath, taking time to organize his thoughts.  
   
“She’s already got my heart,” Bucky interrupted, confident in his feelings and intentions. “If she’ll have me, I’m in this for the long run.”  
   
In response to Bucky’s confession, Steve’s eyes began to water as he stood to wrap the brunette in a hug, utterly ignoring the fact that the man didn’t have an available arm to return the gesture.  
   
“Love ya, pal,” Buck began, his face uncomfortably shoved into the blond’s shoulder, “but, this has gotta be our most awkward hug yet.”  
   
“Oh, dammit,” Steve immediately released as Buck winced at the sudden change in position. The meds were good; but, rough housing was still not recommended.  
   
“Wha’re ya doin’?” Ro mumbled as she rubbed her hand across her face as she stretched her back, stiff from the precarious sleeping position. Blinking her eyes open, Ro was met by grey blue eyes that were full of adoration, “hey, you.”  
   
Suddenly Bucky’s heart was in his throat. Something about sleepy Ro just stirred him in a pleasant way. “Hey, yourself.”  
   
“How’re you feeling?”  
   
“I’m doing great.”  
   
Ro cocked her head to the side; that wasn’t the typical post-surgery response of a patient. She let her skeptical gaze fall to Steve whose eyes were red and slightly damp. “Did my waking interrupt a heart to heart you two boys were having?” Ro’s lighthearted laughter ceased as Steve’s gaze kept silently passing between her and Buck. Shoot, they really were having a heart-to-heart.  
   
“You didn’t interrupt anything, doll,” Bucky softly spoke as he shifted his no-longer-numb right arm around Ro, gently pulling her closer so he could press a chaste kiss to her temple.  
   
Ro smiled into the kiss and, in her peripheral, saw Steve quickly wipe a tear from his eye. She was really starting to wonder which super soldier was on the pain meds.  
   
“Has Cho cleared him for activating the prosthetic?” Based upon Steve’s sudden guilty expression and Bucky’s look of confusion, Ro assumed their response was a negative. Very productive guys. “I’ll be back with the doc.”  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
After Cho completed her thorough once over and an even more thorough explanation on exactly what Bucky was released for and what he wasn’t, the prosthetic was ready to be activated. However, the explanations did include quite the intense bout of negotiations resulting in the following three contingencies. (1) Continued usage of the sling for the next four days with no complaints from Mr. Patient (Ro and Steve already had a bet on how long it would actually last). (2) No raising the limb above shoulder level for one week (“just because you can heal a shattered clavicle doesn’t mean you should have to”). (3) Not lifting anything above 15 pounds for one week (“yes, that means you have to wait eight days before firing another grenade launcher”).  
   
“Ready?”  
   
Bucky’s smile fell as his expression morphed to curiosity as he answered Ro’s question, “what’s exactly gonna happen when you turn it on?”  
   
“Well, I’m not _turning it on_ ; I’m opening the interface between the electrical endings of the prosthetic and the neural interpretation tech of the implant on your spinal cord.”  
   
Shoving Bucky’s right arm, Steve mumbled, “now you see why I didn’t follow the technical jargon?”  
   
“Makes perfect sense to me,” Buck smirked back.  
   
“Okay,” ignoring the bickering, Ro removed the sling and gently placed the prosthetic along Bucky’s left side, ensuring she didn’t tug on the connections within the shoulder.  
   
“That feels weird,” Buck scrunched his face in that same way that Ro probably shouldn’t have found so adorable...but did.  
   
“It’s about to get a lot weirder,” Ro began as she dug her glasses out of her bag before locating a newly made tool that was best described as a metal stick with a small ball on one end and a blunt hook on the other. “You’ll be able to feel pressure like your last one; but, you’ll also be able to differentiate textures and temperature with this one.” Buck nodded, the edges of his lips curling in anticipation as Ro continued. “Now, your brain hasn’t interpreted this type of sensory input from this limb since 1945; so, there’s a good chance you may have headaches from sensory overload until your body can become accustomed to the mechanism.”  
   
“That’s what I was trying to explain to you earlier about the over stimulation,” Steve defended.  
   
“What you said,” Buck started, looking at Steve before gesturing to Ro, “and what Ro just described are nowhere near the same.”  
   
“Okay,” Ro interrupted the playful banter, “now that we’ve confirmed Steve is never the middle man for any technical jargon again-” pause to give Steve adequate time to rid himself of necessary fussing  “-are you ready?”  
   
“Hell yeah,” Buck concluded through an excited smile with only slight hints of nervousness. He comfortably relaxed into the pillow that rest at the head of the reclined bed, letting out a deep breath, unable to wipe the ridiculous smile he knew was plastered on his face. For the first time in 70 plus years, Bucky finally knew _exactly_ what tech was put in his body; he finally approved of - _consented for_ \- the hardware that was now a part of _him_. And, that felt good. Better than good. Amazing. Relieving.  
   
“Alright,” Ro slipped her glasses on as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and furrowed her brows in concentration. As she advanced the specialty tool toward the prosthetic, the exterior vibranium polymer readily parted a fraction of an inch, allowing the blunt hook to wrap around a small device inside the prosthetic. With a gentle tug, Ro finished, “that’s it.”  
   
“That’s it?” Steve spoke hesitantly as Ro removed a stress ball from her bag and Bucky sat still, staring at the device as if it had personally offended him. “Y’okay?”  
   
“Yeah, it... _feels_ ,” Bucky spoke incredulously as he glanced toward Ro who was trying to conceal her smile, knowing this was only the beginning of discovery.  
   
“Hold this,” Ro pressed the orange stress ball between the metallic fingers. “Okay, gently squeeze.” Bucky complied, fingers barely shifting around the foam. Ro’s tool found a small internal wire within the artificial shoulder joint and began twisting only to suddenly stop as Bucky jumped.  
   
“I can feel that thing inside my arm.” His expression was borderline horrified which prompted Steve to stand up and assert his Captain stance.  
   
“No pain, right?”  
   
“No, it’s just...there.”  
   
“Dull sensation?” Bucky nodded in affirmation, slightly confused by Ro’s continued smirk. “Good. Squeeze again.” After a few more attempts at tweaking the muscle contractility and one obliterated stress ball later, Ro set her tool down and slid her fingers into his metallic grasp.  
   
A smile slowly formed on Bucky’s face, “that feels...different. _Good_ different.”  
   
“Good,” Ro replied, ignoring Steve’s huff that somehow exhibited both interest in the prosthetic and disapproval of the suddenly flirtatious tension. Slotting the fingers of her left hand through Buck’s right, Ro instructed, “gently squeeze my hands with equal pressure.”  
   
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Buck softly spoke as his gaze fell to the orange bits of foam that littered the left side of the bed.  
   
“You don’t trust my handiwork?” Ro cocked an eyebrow up, effectively silencing any further debate from the brunette super soldier. After a brief staredown in which Steve glanced back and forth as if watching a tennis match, Bucky sighed and began gently grasping both of Ro’s hands. With just one more adjustment, Ro concluded, “okay, I think the fine tuning of muscle contractility is complete.”  
   
Smiling, Ro subtly shifted her fingers out of Bucky’s metallic grasp and began slowly tracing her fingers up and down Bucky’s forearm, watching his expression intently. A slight shiver pulsed through Bucky’s torso as Ro’s touch advanced toward his shoulder.  
   
“This feels incredible,” Bucky softly spoke as he experimentally lifted his arm, gently forming a fist then flexing his fingers before reaching toward Ro, pushing a brown lock behind her ear. Neither sought to conceal their ridiculous smiles that readily formed.  
   
“Yeah,” Steve said in a drawn out tone, “I’m gonna go...y’know before, uh…” Shaking his head, the blond elected to _not_ complete his thought as he rose and made his way to the door.  
   
“Sorry, Stevie,” Bucky began with feigned ignorance as he loaded his voice with an impressive amount of insinuation, “just like the lady said, I’m experiencing _sensations_ I haven’t felt since the 40’s.”  
   
As Bucky nonchalantly shrugged, Ro struggled to conceal her laughter as Steve’s ears turned an impressive shade of red. You’d think the man would be used to these shenanigans. Apparently not. After gaping like a goldfish for a solid five seconds, Steve huffed and took a step out the door.

“Oh, Steve?” Waiting until the blond poked his head back into the room and ignoring his glare, Ro inquired, “can you bring some super soldier narcotics?”  
   
“I’m fine, I-”  
   
Flashing her best try-me look to the brunette lounging on the hospital bed, Ro calmly interrupted, “you and Steve have the same tell when you’re trying to conceal pain.”  
   
“Don’t try and fight her,” Steve added from the doorway just as Bucky readied an argument.   
   
“Never,” Bucky said with exaggerated pleasure, not breaking his gaze from Ro’s eyes. Even if she was flashing him an expression of utter amusement.   
   
“Oh my gosh, I’m done with you two,” Steve mumbled through the hand firmly pressed to his face as he exited the room once more.   
   
“Drugs, Stevie!” After hearing a groan of recognition, Ro turned back toward Bucky before adding, “can’t wait until you’re feeling 100% so you can finally take me on that date.”  
   
Smirking back, Buck gently traced his prosthetic fingers along Ro’s jaw as he countered, “well my best girl is pretty good at what she does. So, it’ll be no time before I’m at _110%._ ”  
   
“Is that so?” Ro let out a gentle laugh as she leaned into his hand, “you just tryin’ to butter me up for a kiss?”  
   
“Maybe. Did it work?”  
   
“You tell me,” Ro mumbled as she leaned forward to place a chaste kiss against Bucky’s lips.   
   
Upon hearing an exaggerated groan, Ro turned around to see Steve not-so-gracefully tossing a filled and capped syringe onto the bed near Bucky’s legs before all but dragging himself out of the room.   
   
“You so heard him coming,” Ro jabbed, “didn’t you?”  
   
“Maybe.”  
   
Ro kissed the smirk right off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, I'll be moving across the country this weekend (YAY!); so, while I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by Tuesday...we shall see.


	14. Does this mean we're official?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the team slowly (but definitively) finds out about Rowan and Bucky's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have survived a cross-country move! I am exhausted; but, here is another chapter full of well deserved comedy!

Rowan and Bucky weren’t hiding their relationship by any means; however, they didn’t feel the need to make a public service announcement to their team mates. After all, the way their team was slowly putting two and two together was rather priceless.   
   
Steve was the first on the team to receive non verbal confirmation of their relationship. But, we are talking about the Avengers; so, _naturally_ this newfound nugget of information was made common knowledge over the next couple weeks in quite the entertaining way.  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
Precisely eight days after Bucky’s surgery, having ensured he was given full medical clearance, Ro took Bucky up on his prior promise to teach her some of his hobbies. Specifically knife work. Whatever the hell _that_ meant. And, in true Bucky-and-Ro fashion, the two quickly got distracted by one another which soon resulted in the knives being abandoned so free hands could roam over each other.  
   
That was how the two wound up on the elevator, Ro’s legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist, her hands threaded through his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against hers. Taking a deep breath to nuzzle his nose along her jaw, Bucky pressed Ro against the cool metal of the lift’s interior, eliciting a moan that went straight to his core. Ro let her right hand drift down from the man’s brown locks, prompting her to let out an inquisitive noise.  
   
“We forgot to stop by the armory,” Ro mumbled as she reluctantly shifted back, pulling the eight inch dagger from Bucky’s shoulder strap her hand inadvertently found.  
   
“Oops,” Buck nonchalantly said through a smirk.  
   
“You had no intent of stopping by the armory, did you?”  
   
Refusing to admit the truth, Bucky settled for stealing another kiss as Ro began disarming the man as she was carried out of the now stopped elevator.  
   
With one hand firmly anchoring Bucky in the heated kiss, Ro had somehow managed to remove three knives with only one hand from the man and was working on the fourth. She realized dropping them on the floor wasn’t exactly the safest means of ridding them of the weaponry; but, Ro did ensure they dropped hilt first - she spent quality time picking out the hardwood of their floor’s entryway. Meanwhile, as Bucky blindly stumbled into the living area, his hands were meandering over Ro’s strong legs, relying on her firm grasp of her lower limbs around his waist, to swiftly remove the two blades holstered at her thighs.  
   
However, their disarming attempts immediately halted upon hearing the tell tale shattering of glass in the kitchen. Diverting their gazes to the source of the noise, the two were met by three pairs of eyes staring back. Well, technically two since Steve’s reddening face was nearly completely concealed by his hands.  
   
Clint’s empty hand was still outstretched and, from the looks of the pile of glass shards just below, was just previously holding a glass of orange juice. Natasha stood to his right with her arms crossed over her chest in her typical I’m-totally-judging-you-right-now stance, smirk included.  
   
“Uh,” Ro wiggled her fingers as means of an awkward greeting, “hi?”  
   
“What is, uh,” Clint stammered, vaguely shimmying his hand in figure eights in Ro and Bucky’s direction, “this, er, is this...uh…”  
   
“Eloquent,” Nat jested in response to Clint’s mumbling before turning to Ro, “‘bout damn time.”  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
As the rarely used stairwell door slammed open, Ro’s gaze snapped from her yellowing sci-fi paperback to the impromptu intruder just as Clint, Nat, and Sam’s heated debate regarding the stupidity of some reality show ceased. Bucky ignored all four pairs of eyes, electing to storm directly to the adjacent communal kitchen. After a few concerning grunts, a couple slammed cabinets, and the sound of violently ruffled silverware, Bucky launched himself over the back of the couch and landed surprisingly gracefully to Ro’s left.  
   
Feeling the frustration radiating off the super soldier, everyone abided by the unspoken rule of not questioning the animal until he’s tamed and returned to their prior engagements. That was until Ro noted his choice of food. Her _entire tub_ of peanut butter and her _entire bag_ of chocolate morsels that were strategically kept in _her_ cabinet. You share with the man one damn time and he assumes it’s free game. Nope. Well, she is a sucker for this guys, so...maybe.  
   
“Whoa, portion out what you plan on eating and leave the rest untouched, terminator!”  
   
“I plan on eating all of it,” he growled out.  
   
Ro took a deep breath. If this was anyone else (even Steve), the sweet protein snack would already have been out of their paws. But, alas, it’s her Bucky.  
   
“Tough bout with Wanda?”  
   
“That’s one way of putting it,” he growled. Again.  
   
“Was that the last bag or morsels?”  
   
Bucky at least had the audacity to pause his ruthless shoveling and nodded with chipmunked cheeks.  
   
“In that case,” Ro snagged the spoon despite the look of feigned disapproval she received from the super soldier, dunking the piece of flatware into the peanut butter tub before shoving the dollop directly into the bag of morsels. “Don’t give me that look,” Ro mumbled around her bite that should have been two as she waved the empty spoon, “you just said you’re gonna eat all my chocolate. You can bet your ass I’m gonna at least try ‘n sneak a few bites.”  
   
Shaking his head, Bucky just smiled as he stole the spoon back as they began alternating scooping duties. After nearly half a bag of morsels later, Wanda exited the elevator which elicited a seemingly uncalled for growl from Bucky. The man was perfecting the sound effect surprisingly well.  
   
Ro took the opportunity to attempt to open a telepathic link with Wanda; Professor X said it was possible and recently gave the two a few pointers. With that assistance, and Wanda’s extensive time working with Dr. Strange on advancing her powers, the two ladies felt close to a breakthrough.  
   
“ _Wanda?_ ” Ro felt odd speaking to someone while not actually...vocalizing anything given everything was in her mind. But, when a freakishly omniscient telepathic mutant tells you this is how it works, you don’t question the directions. “ _Wanda? Wanda Wanda Wanda..._ ”  
   
Nothing. The Sokovian snagged a water bottle from the kitchen and perched on the vacant couch without any indication of hearing the attempted communication.  
   
“ _Dammit Wanda!_ ”  
   
Wanda slowly glanced toward Ro, letting her gaze fall upon the room’s occupants, expecting alarmed expressions indicative of the yelling they _must_ have heard. Ro’s eyes were wide upon catching Wanda’s gaze.  
   
 _“Did it work?”_  
   
Wanda responded by audibly screaming and jumping up and down. So, naturally, Rowan did the same, nearly displacing the bag of morsels which earned her a glare from Bucky. The phrase _you girls are acting like a pack of wild banshees_ may have been thrown out there by Clint.  
   
“ _Ro,_ ” Wanda replied telepathically, “ _we did it?_ ”  
   
Natasha muted the TV, deciding the current reality show was more entertaining than the televised trash. Sam and Clint seemed to agree as they didn’t provide any protest.  
   
“ _We did!_ ”  
   
“ _In that case,_ ” Wanda began, crossing her arms over her chest, “ _tell your boyfriend to stop thinking about fantasies with you while we’re working._ ”  
   
Ro felt her face flush violently. Or at least she assumed that was what happened. After all, it is what happens when you’re overcome with a ridiculous amount of embarrassment, right? _Bucky’s fantasies? Of Rowan?_ Deep breath.  
   
“Gonna share with the class, ladies?”  
   
Before Ro could reply to Nat’s query in a way that _didn’t_ include divulging the whole _fantasy_ shenanigan, Steve barged into the room in nothing shy of Captain America flare.  
   
“What’s going on?”  
   
“Oh, we just figured out the two way telepathy thing,” Ro replied to both Steve and Nat as Wanda bounced on her toes and clapped her hands together.  
   
Steve groaned, not showing the proper level of enthusiasm.  
   
“What?” Ro continued with an arched brow, “did we _interrupt_ something?”  
   
“Yeah, I was busy.” Vague. Ro can work with vague. And, by work with, I mean sass back.  
   
“Planning your second date?”  
   
“Y’know some of us actually have to do that thing called work.”  
   
Well, if Steve can sass too, Ro can one up. “And some of us have a work-life balance.”  
   
“We talkin’ ‘bout that Carter girl?” Time for Sam and his suggestive eyebrows to join the conversation. Props, Sam.  
   
“Yeah,” Buck began, shocking everyone with the accusatory tone, “the one that brought the gear before the Leipzig battle, then kissed Steve, you know right before you _refused to move your seat forward one damn inch!_ ”  
   
“Dude,” Sam rolled his eyes and his head simultaneously, “you still bringin’ that up?”  
   
“Coulda just moved your seat,” Buck mumbled as he shoveled another bite from the bag.  
   
“Steve, just don’t make me scheme another date,” Ro spoke to the blond super soldier jokingly; however, they both knew she would so do it again for him and Sharon. She’s a sucker for happy endings.  
   
“Another?” Sam turned completely in his seat to face Ro directly before continuing, “are you investing more in someone else’s relationship than your own?” Ro opened her mouth but was hushed by Sam’s raised hand, “you can’t just keep rejecting the dating pool as a whole just because of-”  
   
“Don’t you dare say his name,” Ro promptly interrupted. Sam held his hands up in defense as Buck leans over to discreetly whisper.  
   
“Guy from the boardwalk?”  
   
Nodding in affirmation, Ro added, “ask Steve about it later. I don’t wanna talk about him.”  
   
“Don’t have to say anything until you’re comfortable,” Buck flashed that genuine smile that just sank right to Ro’s core. But, this was an important topic of conversation.  
   
“I want you to know; but, I just don’t want to say it,” Ro knew she was being stubborn. “Still ask Steve, okay?” Bucky nodded in understanding before piling up another bit of protein sweetness, holding the spoon out for Ro who immediately partook.  
   
“What are you two eating?”  
   
Bucky shot a look of light hearted disapproval to Sam as he replied, “kinda obvious, feathers.”  
   
Ro snorted out an impressively attractive laugh as Buck dramatically finished off the remaining peanut butter on the utensil. Sam shook his head while mumbling something about swapping spit and personal hygiene. Being the mature adults they are, Bucky and Ro made eye contact and through a series of smirks and raised eyebrows, arrived at an agreement and leaned in for a kiss that probably shouldn’t be on public display.  
   
“Holy shit!” Sam’s arms flung to their respective armrests, physically bracing himself from the shockwave of PDA. “When did this happen?” Scrunching his face, he continued, “and why did _that_ have to happen?”  
   
Further conversation had to wait until Clint’s hysterics died down.  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
Over the next few days, nearly half of the team found out about Ro and Bucky’s relationship status - Bruce from Natasha, and Vision from Wanda - except for the always distracted Tony and the friendly neighborhood Asgardians - Thor, Sif, and Loki. However, one particular day everyone was not only on the same planet, but on the same floor of one building. Specifically, at the top of Avengers tower, under the retractable landing pad, covered by a privacy dome, having a pool party. The occasion: some feast honoring some god from some distant realm that Thor was adamant should be celebrated, and Tony was more than willing to accept as rationale for breaking out the alcohol.  
   
Tapping her foot to the beat reverberating through the warm poolside air, Ro continued to tamper with the hologram depicting the mechanism of a motorcycle engine. To her left sat Sif, who took an impressive interest in Ro’s work, continuously asking questions or offering recommendations. Vision had joined Sif and Ro at some point, acting as world’s fastest calculator for necessary computations to compare various altered mechanics.  
   
To Ro’s right lay Nat, Sharon, and Wanda who had been disguising their gossiping with suntanning. Nice try, ladies; but, Ro knows all. Sometimes. Loki, who had disappeared for an unnerving 30 minutes, recently returned to Wanda’s right and somehow managed to talk her into a _magic contest_ \- see who can conjure the best prank with only powers without getting caught. A charcoal briquette may or may not have found itself submerged under Clint in the pool; a prompt evacuation was commenced before properly identifying the turd shaped object.  
   
Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Thor were busy convincing Sam to abandon his grilling duties and Tony of his bartending duties for a match of some Asgardian water sport that necessitated two teams of three, an oblong bubble, and a two pronged stick. The boys quickly learned to just accept the rules (especially the one regarding the allowance of riding a teammates shoulders) without question upon receiving a few unwanted intergalactic history lessons. Sure, Thor. Sure.  
   
“Uh, Ro?”  
   
Glancing beyond the blue glow of the hologram, Ro saw Steve’s concerned expression as he glanced toward Bucky who had his prosthetic arm raised in the air, slowly draining water from the elbow.  
   
“It’s full of water,” Captain ~~Obvious~~ America stated.  
   
“Hang on,” Ro hollered before passing the tablet to Sif, who suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas, then ran to her lab and snagged the specialty tools.  
   
Tossing her cover up next to Vision’s feet on her now occupied chaise, Ro snagged her beer (really some Strawberry flavored malt beverage that shouldn’t even be classified as beer) and strategically set everything down before cannonballing into the pool. Right next to the guys. Just because she can.  
   
“You got pool water in my drink!”  
   
Breaching the water, Ro shot Tony an unimpressed look as she retorted, “if you didn’t go for the fancy cocktails and stuck with something bottled, that wouldn’t have been that big of a problem.” To emphasize her point, she raised her bottle in a toast before taking a sip.  
   
“Unlike those two,” Tony plucked his cocktail umbrella out of his tainted drink and jabbed it in the direction of Steve and Bucky, “I won’t just metabolize all those carbs away.”  
   
Chugging the remainder of her beverage, Ro cocked an eyebrow up in feigned offense, “are you saying I’m fat?”  
   
Tony immediately went silent and held his hands up in defense before sloughing off downstairs to probably concoct a new beverage with his personal stash. Score one for Ro.  
   
“Alrighty,” Ro turned toward Bucky, hand still gripping the ledge due to the depth, “try and drain more of the water.” Bucky raised his arm, prompting water to nearly flow out of the prosthetic, as Ro snagged a nearby tool. “Okay, now submerge it so I can find the leaks.”  
   
Taking a deep breath, Ro followed the prosthetic underwater and began looking for bubbles. Trying to ensure her focus remained on the task at hand and not the half naked man attached to the task, Ro cleared her head.  
   
A sudden bout of bubbles to her right caught her attention prompting her to glance over and see Steve give a dorky underwater smile. Ro had to conceal a laugh; Steve really was trying to be a part of the process - gives him an excuse to be with both Ro and Bucky. But, his innocent curiosity was rather comical. Pointing to a steady stream of small bubbles, Ro glanced toward Steve who nodded his head in sudden understanding. Holding her finger over the evident leak, the two returned to the surface.  
   
“This actually shouldn’t take long at all,” Ro began, holding onto Bucky’s arm while treading water, “but, let’s sit on the edge ‘cause not all of us are six feet tall and I don’t feel like churning butter for the hell of it.”  
   
Slightly laughing at Ro, Bucky managed to perch himself on the edge of the pool with Ro without her releasing the marked leak. Giving Steve the task of holding the tools (he was itching to do something helpful), Ro allowed the pool water to fully drain before starting to tweak two separate components to tighten the exterior metallic mesh.  
   
“I’ll never get used to that,” Steve mumbled as he cocked his head to the side, watching how the vibranium polymer parted seamlessly for the specialized tools.  
   
“You’re telling me,” Buck agreed.  
   
“I still don’t even understand how it works.”  
   
Trying to stifle a laugh, Ro elaborated on the mechanism as she continued the repair, “remember how I was telling you about being able to take advantage of the electrical polarity of the molecules since-”  
   
“Doll?” Ro looked toward Buck upon hearing his interruption and followed his gaze to Steve who had quite the contorted expression of confusion. “Don’t waste your breath,” the brunette super soldier jested.  
   
“Hey,” Steve spats back lightheartedly, dousing the two with a splash.  
   
“Dammit, Steve,” Buck retorts through a laugh, kicking the water to return the favor. “You’re interrupting science.”  
   
“Oh, now you’re on her side?”  
   
“Of course I side with my best girl,” Buck softly added in Ro’s direction.  
   
Not even trying to stifle the laughter this time, Ro put her tools to the side having finished the repair and cocked an eyebrow up as she replied to Buck. “That was cheesy.”  
   
“But, did it earn me a kiss?”  
   
“It earned you a lot more than just one,” Ro added as she leans in, meeting Bucky in the middle for a quick kiss.  
   
Thor’s boom of congratulations was promptly followed by Sif and Loki’s genuine well wishes along with Clint and Sam’s cat calling. Eventually, they’ll all get used to it. Ro laughed in response to the hoopla as she rose and playfully shoved Bucky into the pool before returning to her seat with her tools and empty bottle.  
   
Floating on his back, Bucky watched Ro walk back to her seat, flashing a wink when she glanced over her shoulder. As she slipped her wet hair into a messy bun, Bucky’s eyes were quickly drawn to a bright white line between her shoulder blades, a scar about an inch in length along her spine.  
   
“Stevie,” waiting until he had the blond’s attention, Buck inquired, “is that from the story of that guy you told me about?”  
   
Steve’s smile slowly fell as he nodded his head in affirmation, recalling the unfortunate events of Ro’s past.  
   
Bucky quickly schooled his expression, no longer showing anger driven by his protective nature over Ro, when she and Sif glanced over, evidently in deep conversation about him. He settled for a quick smile before answering Thor’s demand of another game.  
   
 

***   ***   ***

   
   
How Tony was the last to find out about Ro and Bucky’s relationship, no one knows. Too much of a workaholic? Bad Luck? Who knows. But, sure enough, he did finally find out. And, boy was it an entertaining sight.  
   
What started out as a few residents making an early morning breakfast quickly turned into the entire team performing a highly entertaining bout of pre-grub karaoke whilst attempting to not burn the bacon. Again. After Ro demanded Tony wasn’t _being fun_ , a quick set of rules was readily established after an intense round of negotiations.  
   
Rule one: a performer is nominated by at least two other people. Rule two: the performer doesn’t get a say in the song selection but does get to choose between dancing or singing to said selected song. Rule three: if the performer declines the song selection, payment in the form of personal embarrassment will be collected at a future random time selected by those who made the nomination.  
   
That was how the Avengers found themselves doubled over in laughter as they watched Captain America shake what his momma gave him to Sir Mixalot’s _Baby Got Back_. After Steve managed to salvage the remnants of his dignity via receiving encouraging words from Buck - the only one who took pity on the man, he took revenge on the entirety of the team by nominating (with FRIDAY’s support) Clint who danced to a gaudy mashup of Kesha’s top hits. There was a unanimous decision to cease the music only 90 seconds into the seven minute horrifying fan made rendition.  
   
Taking advantage of the team’s nonchalance of the rules after that nomination, Tony took it upon himself to strut around the kitchen to Flo Rida’s _My House_ , utterly ignoring the demands that _strutting_ wasn’t considered dancing. He claimed to be sipping his coffee to the beat. What beat he was sipping to, no one could figure out.  
   
Clint and Nat then ganged up on Ro, enticing her competitive drive to outperform her father, nominating her with the song _Bang Bang_ to which Wanda readily joined. Sam was just upset Ro had once again abandoned her cooking duties. Clint took the opportunity to prove his worth by performing the rapped lyrics flawlessly only to stumble over his own tongue two lines in. Ro and Wanda promptly danced him off stage.  
   
Steve thought Bucky was far too entertained from his sidelines perch and recalled his appreciation of the last movie night selection - _Grease_ \- and elected to nominate the super soldier with _You’re the One That I Want_. Smirking in the way only that man can, Bucky snatched Ro’s spatula and tossed the utensil back to an eye rolling Sam as he led Ro in an improvisational dance that closely resembled a 40’s Lindy Hop. Concluding the dance with whole hearted laughter, Ro perched onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Bucky’s. There was communal wolf whistling until…  
   
“Uhm!” Tony’s multi syllabic groan effectively garnered everyone’s attention, including Ro and Bucky who were still happily in each other’s arms. “Excuse me; but, where did _that_ come from?” Flailing his hand between his daughter and the brunette centenarian, Tony continued toward the rest of the team, “was anyone else expecting _that_?”  
   
Tony was met by the slowly nodding heads of Steve, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Wanda, Vision, and Sam.  
   
“No, missy,” Tony demanded as he spun back to Ro who was now standing in front of Bucky, his arms comfortably wrapped around her. “You can’t go kissing people unless you’re dating them!”  
   
“Well, we kind of are,” Bucky retorted, desperately trying not to laugh and further piss off the man. However, the team’s priceless expressions were making the cessation of laughter difficult.  
   
“Dating and kissing,” Ro unnecessarily elaborated.  
   
Following an impressively childish groan, Tony further demanded, “and no dating until you’re married!”  
   
“If you say so,” Bucky mumbled as he made a show to step in front of Ro and slowly began to kneel down.  
   
Ro was going along with the pretense up until a gravy covered biscuit found the side of Bucky’s face, sending breakfast particulates flying. Tony was evidently a man of few words this morning. 


	15. But did you die?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve is driven to his wit's end by Ro and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the boxes are finally unpacked, the fence has been fixed and they dog did not escape for good! Oh, and I managed to crank out a chapter. Yay!

“Where might you two be heading?”

The two super soldiers, who had been placing petty bets regarding today’s competition - their morning run, turned to see Ro in workout gear. “Finally convinced this guy to run outside with me,” Steve proudly replied. 

Bucky eloquently replied with a super soldier sized eye roll. 

“Mind if I join?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You. Running. Outside.” Steve paused, trying to decipher Ro’s silent nod of affirmation. “The last time you ran outside was when I quite literally dragged you out of the building.”

Bucky huffed a slight laugh, evidently amused by the scene Steve was painting. 

“Why must I have a reason for wanting to spend time with my boys?” Flashing her best smile of innocence, Ro managed to wrap one arm around each man’s waist and pulled them into an awkward one sided hug. Both were still waiting for the second shoe to drop. 

“Just assuming there’s an ulterior motive,” Steve mumbled. 

“Well,” Ro began, releasing Steve and Bucky and filling a cup with water before continuing, “there may have been further incentive.”

“Oh?” Now it was Bucky’s turn to prod for further information. 

“The view,” Ro offered shrugging her shoulders before downing the remainder of her water. To Steve’s half inquisitive half skeptical glance, Ro elaborated, “well, you super soldiers do run faster than me. And, you know, that means you’ll be in front of me.”

“And you’ve _never_ run with Stevie outside before,” Bucky egged on in feigned ignorance, evidently prodding to hear specifics from Ro. 

“Eh,” Ro shrugged as she made her way to the summoned elevator, “not quite the same visual incentive.”

“Wha…” Steve began, rapidly cutting himself off as his brain caught up with his mouth, following his smirking childhood friend toward the now occupied elevator. “You two never stop, do you?”

Stifling a laugh, Ro replied, “well, technically we do need sleep-”

“Rhetorical question, Rowan,” Steve mumbled through his hands that were currently cupping his face, mentally begging the elevator to descend at a faster rate. 

Bucky and Ro bumped fists, silently celebrating the success of their continuous mutual goal of pressing Steve’s buttons.

*** *** ***

Only garnering a few occasional inquisitive glances, Bucky and Steve sprinted their fifth and final lap of the predetermined route, knowing they would soon catch up to Ro, on her _first_ and final lap.

“You hear that?”

Steve held his breath and cocked his head to the side, not faltering in pace, as he tried to better hear the strained noises Bucky inquired about. “Yeah,” Steve decisively stated as he identified the telltale sound of an underdog’s yell of desperation. 

As both super soldiers quicken their pace toward a more forested area on their route, the shouts became morbidly familiar. Ro. Ro needed help. As they approach the area, both men readily survey the situation. 

Ro was yelling rather colorful profanities, nearly immobilized by one man, standing behind her, pinning her wrists together behind her back. The two men on the receiving end of her vocalizations were practically immobilized themselves, though. One was precariously situated against a tree with his head tilted upward as blood readily flowed from his nose. The other is curled in the fetal position, rocking himself to and fro, clutching his crotch in what could only be described as sheer desperation. 

“Ro!” 

Not even registering the super soldier yelling her name as they neared, Ro ceaselessly continued her own commands toward the assailant stumbling around with the bloody nose, the evident ring leader. “I told you I never wanted to see your dumb ass again!”

Before the two men could intervene, Ro rammed the heel of her tennis shoe along the right shin of the man behind her. With a sharp yell and a line of blood forming along the abused limb, he released her, allowing Ro to dart forward in the direction of the ring leader. Before she could reach her target, the man protecting his family jewels staggered toward her only to be subdued instantly by a swift kick by Bucky as Steve wrapped his arms protectively around Ro, preventing her further involvement. 

With an impressively timed jump, Bucky landed his knee to the ring leader’s chest, effectively forcing him down to the ground as the air expelled from his lungs. Having identified the assailant as the man from the pier, Bucky turned to Ro and, with a gruff voice, sought confirmation, “is this him?”

Ro nodded, still immobilized by Steve. 

Bucky turned back toward the downed ring leader, predatorily squatting over the man as he unnecessarily flexed his metallic prosthetic, making the slowly approaching two men hesitate their advances. 

“Buck,” Steve’s authoritative voice rang out, “he’s not worth it.”

Ro let out an involuntary huff. She believed the sorry excuse of a man currently pinned under Bucky deserved nothing shy of forever residing within the inner rings of hell. However, what was left of Ro’s logical side agreed with Cap. Bucky was on a tight leash with just about everyone who knew he was alive. Many of those individuals were holding their breath, waiting for the man to slip up, providing an adequate argument for forever silencing the Winter Soldier. And, that couldn’t happen. Not to her Bucky.

Interest piqued, Ro furrowed her brows as she and Steve tried to decipher Bucky’s agitated whispering to the man on the ground while the other two goons fled with expressions of sheer fear. With a couple nods barely noticeable through his full body trembling, the ring leader scrambled himself up, no longer focused on his wounded nose and distanced himself from Bucky as if his life depended on it. In all honesty, it probably did. 

After ensuring the man wasn’t returning, Bucky turned back to Steve and Ro with teeth clenched and chest heaving. 

“What’d you tell ‘em?” 

Bucky took a deep breath before responding to Steve. “Just scared him a little.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “you made a grown man piss himself.”

Ro glanced toward Steve, seeking confirmation of this new tid bit of knowledge, “he did?”

Steve nodded with his eyebrows still raised to which Bucky shrugged as he replied, “had to make sure he wouldn’t dare come back.”

“I’m so sorry, Ro,” Steve’s expression fell as he ducked his head in shame, “I thought I dealt with him.”

Slipping her arms around the blond’s waist, Ro genuinely offered, “it’s not your fault.” Leaning back but still keeping her hands on his sides to ensure she maintained Steve’s attention, she continued, “just bad luck they happened to be here.”

“Did he lay a hand on you?”

“He tried,” turning to Bucky, Ro quietly admitted to which Steve let out an involuntary huff of frustration at his personal failure.

“We should have been here sooner,” Steve spoke, primarily to himself, in continuation of his self deprecation. 

“Not your fault,” Ro reiterated, “just bad timing. Plus,” Ro continued, offering a slight smile knowing the two men would readily recognize her pending words, “I had ‘em on the ropes.” Bucky gave a soft smile that still didn’t cover his frustration as he pulled Ro into a protective embrace.

Through a hesitant smile, Steve agreed, “didn’t get a great look; but, his nose looked pretty bad.” Ro gave a noncommittal shrug as she nodded slightly. 

“You shattered it,” Bucky confirmed as he leaned back, offering an encouraging smile as he gently grasped her right hand. “Good punch, doll.” The smile on Bucky’s face was immediately eradicated as he saw the laceration and bruising already forming on Ro’s hand. 

“Learned from the best,” Ro retorted, cocking an eyebrow up as she hip checked Bucky, effectively pulling a laugh from the brunette super soldier.

Seeing right through Ro’s facade of hiding pain, Steve prompted (not without an eyeroll at the ceaseless flirtation), “alright, let’s get you back home and patched up.”

*** *** ***

“Hey,” Nat nonchalantly offered as she heard the ding of the elevator’s approach, carrying Steve, Bucky, and Rowan. Her back was to the lift as she and Clint were perched on the communal kitchen island, attention thoroughly consumed by a tablet the duo was sharing. “You guys ba-”

“Woah!” Clint’s exclamation effectively silenced Natasha’s query. “What happened?” 

Ro, with the knuckles on her right hand now donning a striking shade of purple and blue with a hint of dried blood, made her way toward the kitchen island, hopping onto the counter with Bucky’s help as Steve retrieved the recently restocked first aid kit. 

“It’s not that bad,” she offered.

Her nonchalance was immediately overshadowed by Steve’s demand, “where’s Banner?”

Before anyone could reply, Bucky snatched the kit from Steve with a nearly inaudible, “think I got more experience patching up knuckles from back alley fist fights than you, pal.” With a subtle curl of his lips, Steve passed the reigns to Bucky. He really knew he just wanted an excuse to treat his best girl. 

“He’s in his lab,” Wanda replied as she made her way into the kitchen, having set down her book from her previous seat on the loveseat in the adjacent room. 

“We need to see if anything’s broken,” Steve elaborated.

“Only his nose,” Bucky proudly replied as he continued to examine Ro’s hand and wrist. 

“Care to elaborate?” 

Ro opened her mouth to reply to Natasha; however, she was promptly cut off as Tony and Bruce quite literally fell out of the elevator, with Tony waving a tablet in the air, evidently focused on the tech before his eyes fell upon his injured daughter. “Ro!”

“Jesus,” Ro jumped, “I’m fine guys.” Evidently the team was making a party out of the situation.

Banner, thoroughly ignoring Ro’s adamancy, squeezes between Steve and Bucky to take a look at Ro’s hand. For a guy who demands he’s _not that kind of doctor_ , he sure does know what he’s doing. However, his work was impeded by Tony, Natasha, Clint, and Wanda’s persistent inquiries. 

“Who let this happen?”

“More like _what happened_?”

“Dude, please tell me the other guy’s worse.”

“Should I get Pepper? Will this require a PR statement?”

“Can we please _calm down_?!” Rowan’s elevated voice effectively silenced the team. 

“Not until someone explains,” Tony retorted. Ro nodded; that was a fair demand. 

“Her ex was out running with his friends,” Steve began his explanation as if in a debriefing. “We ran ahead of Ro-”

“-because I told them it’d be okay,” Ro added, already seeing Tony readying some sort of complaint to the two super soldiers. 

“Long story short,” Steve regained control, “she shattered the guy’s nose-”

“-and revoked another guy’s manhood and shaved off a bit of another’s shin,” Bucky added with a strong sense of pride.

“Then, Bucky made him piss his pants and all three ran off in tears,” Ro concluded. Everyone was generally silent, taking in the newfound information. Steve just rolled his eyes, he could have given the summary; but, _no_ , the two resident flirts had to interrupt. 

“Huh,” Clint offered as he glanced toward Bucky with a devious grin, “when’s the next mission?”

“No,” Ro immediately demanded, “they’re not worth it.” She knew those two would definitely go rogue for something as petty as teaching immature boys a lesson.

Shrugging his shoulders, Buck replied, “tonight?”

“Buck!” 

“ _Steve,_ ” Bucky countered. 

“Boys,” Ro interrupted with her left hand pressed firmly against her forehead. “I think the problem has been solved. Steve gave a reluctant nod, still evidently upset he hadn’t prevented the problem to begin with. Bucky and Clint gave vague shrugs; they would do whatever they wanted. That was a given. Why did Ro even try? “Please tell me someone has some good news, I need something positive.”

“Well,” Banner offered, having thoroughly cleaned and wrapped Ro’s hand while she was distracted by the team’s bickering, “no broken bones.” Ro and Bucky shot Steve identical _told-you-so_ looks; they both called it yet Steve wasn’t budging until receiving confirmation. “Should be pain free by the end of the week with maybe minor lingering bruising.”

“Perfect timing,” Tony added with an uncomfortable smile, “two announcements. First, I may have found the dimwits who broke into the tower looking for Sir Frosts-a-lot.”

“Solid enough to go in?”

Glancing toward Steve, Tony replied, “yeah, it’s a small base we’ve already cleared in upstate; but, I think they’ve reinhabited it.”

“Who exactly is _they_?” Sam inquired as he stepped off the elevator having evidently caught the end of Tony’s findings. He gave a concerned glance toward Ro to which she shrugged her shoulders as if to confirm she was okay and would fill him in later as Clint took the liberty of replying. 

“Uh, I’m gonna go on a limb and say Hydra?”

“I’m actually leaning toward _no_ ,” Tony hesitantly offered, bracing for the load of surprised glances shot his way from the entirety of the team. 

Steve and Clint simultaneously expressed their disbelief, “ _what?_ ”

“Looks like a copycat or something,” Tony offered. 

“But, not as advanced, I’m assuming,” Nat added, hoping to get Tony to expedite his slow delivery of data. 

“Definitely not,” the eldest Stark confirmed, “they’re slipping up quite a bit.”

“Why haven’t you filled me in on any of this?” Ro didn’t even attempt to conceal her frustrations; this was her job, after all. Not to mention these jackasses who attacked the tower made it personal on _many_ levels. 

Waving his tablet in the air which Ro immediately snatched with her left hand, Tony retorted, “what do you think I was comin’ in here to do? FRIDAY was running some algorithms and the results just came in.”

Stifling her frustrations, Ro calmly asked, “okay, so, when are we going to deal with them?”

“As soon as possible,” Steve demanded. 

“Tomorrow,” Nat offered. 

Scrunching his face, Tony countered, “we have a publicity thing tomorrow.”

Scoffing, Bucky sardonically huffed, “priorities.”

“If we’re expected to make an appearance and we don’t show, the public begins to speculate and widespread panic ensues,” Ro reluctantly spoke without breaking her gaze from the information on the tablet. Her eyes continuously passed back and forth as page upon page flipped by in an attempt to absorb the information as fast as possible. “Been there, done that. Not a fun clean up. But,” Ro paused as she prompted a few schematics to pop up on the screen before shooting Steve a pointed look, “this is why I said we should level the damn building.”

“I know, I know,” Steve sighed, “I thought it was overkill at the time; but, after we clear it out, we will this time.”

“And, can I send a few missiles to level all the others that we’ve left standing?” Ro’s tone was full of sarcasm; but, in all honestly, if Steve gave her the all clear, she wouldn’t hesitate. 

“Ro,” Steve cautioned. 

“ _Steve_ ,” Ro maturely retorted. “Anyway, it doesn’t appear to have too much activity.”

“Agreed,” Tony added, “so, I’m just thinking we send in a small team. 

“Four tops,” Ro agreed, facing Tony as the two got onto one of their back-and-forth idea rants effectively causing their team to glance back and forth as if watching a tennis match, “and I can be on comms here while-”

“-the others attend the publicity gig-”

“-and the public doesn’t have another panic attack-” 

“-and no more PR clean up,” Tony concluded, “perfect!”

“So,” Nat spoke,, naturally having been the first to catch up with Ro and Tony’s piggybacking thoughts, “are we drawing names from a hat to decide who goes or what?”

Not approving Nat’s proposed method, Steve inquired, “who are they expecting at the gig?”

Tony pointed toward Cap, “you, Vis, Wanda, Nat, Rowan, and myself.”

“Yeah, they’re only getting one Stark,” Ro admitted, never having been a fan of the publicity aspect of the job. 

“Figured getting you there would be hard enough,” Tony admitted raising an eyebrow of disapproval. 

“But, now I actually have a good reason to deny,” Ro cockily smiled. 

“So,” Sam began as he did a mental headcount, “that leaves myself, Clint, Ro, and Banner.”

“I’m the last resort,” Banner quickly amended, raising his hands in defense. 

“So, me and Clint on the ground against how many?” Sam glanced to Ro for an answer. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Ro puttered around on the tablet, “it’s a small compound; but, I don’t like those odds. Hang on,” Ro continued to glance at the tablet as she focused on channeling a telepathic link. “ _Wanda?_ ”

“ _You’re getting good at this,_ ” Wanda replied telepathically while maintaining a perfect poker face. 

Ro couldn’t entirely conceal her smirk as she jumped straight to her query, “ _is Buck ready?_ ”

Wanda took an involuntary deep breath that was somehow only noticed by Bucky and Nat although they didn’t indicate their recognition aside from subtle curious glances between Ro and Wanda. “ _I think so; but, he doubts himself. I wouldn’t send him into hand-to-hand yet._ ”

“Going to share ladies?” Of course Nat blew their cover. Traitor. 

“I have a solution,” Ro replied, “Clint, you’ll replace Nat on the interview roster so we can have another set of feet on the ground. Bruce, you also go to the interview - the more Avengers present the more willing the press will be to overlook any change in roster.” 

Clint immediately replied with a strong protective tone, “Nat’s not going in without someone covering her six.” Bruce vigorously nodded as Nat glanced between the two men with an expression that exhibited an odd mixture of disapproval in their lack of faith of her abilities and appreciation of their apparent care. 

“Barnes, that’ll be your job,” Ro decidedly spoke to Bucky, “you’ll snipe from afar, no hand-to-hand.”

“Uhhmmm,” Tony spoke in an unwarranted dramatic tone as he glanced between Ro, Bucky, and Wanda, all three of whom were exhibiting unwavering confidence. Occasionally someone would open their mouth then silently close it, refusing to be the one to actually voice the concern. 

Turning toward Buck, Ro asks moreso for the team’s benefit than either of their own, “think you can do it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Steve took a deep breath, readying his retort, “but-”

“Stevie,” Ro interrupted, “don’t waste your breath. Two of the most stubborn people in the world just made up their minds,” Ro topped off her rationale by leaning over slightly from her perch on the counter and settling her elbow on Bucky’s shoulder as both flashed cocky grins. 

“Well, that’s settled,” Tony reluctantly concluded. 

“Just like that?” Steve wasn’t convinced. 

“It is a very small compound,” Tony reiterated. 

“The max number of people FRIDAY’s clocked is six,” Ro reaffirmed. Nat shrugged in evident pleasant surprise. 

Steve blurted out an indecipherable syllable that the team assumed was some means of disapproval. After a few more syllables, the man finally found his words, “I want on comms at least.”

Ro gaped like a fish, unable to formulate a retort that lacked unnecessary judgement. I mean, come on, does the man understand what he just asked for? Bucky’s hand (fortunately flesh) dramatically found his own face, deciding that gesture was the only adequate response.

“During the interview…?” Steve glanced toward Sam (who was currently channeling his inner counselor), immediately understanding the absurdity of his demand; however, still not wanting to be so isolated from Bucky’s first mission. 

Fast forward a few ridiculous minutes, where one particular super soldier quite literally negotiated his way into participating in a mission _and_ an interview at the same time, and the team _finally_ disbanded. 

“Wait,” Bruce caught everyone’s attention as he turned to Tony, “you said you had two announcements.”

“Oh right,” Tony began with the same hesitant smile as before, “I kind of forgot I signed us all up for something…”

Through communal groans, Ro huffed out, “what now, dad?”

“Well, after I had to make a sizable donation to the Smithsonian since the curator was at Steve’s party and recognized the uniforms,” Tony paused, electing to go for drama as he ensured Ro understood this was her doing. “To keep the disappearing act of ancient relics on the hush-hush, I volunteered to host their annual gala...” 

“And…” Ro prompted. 

“And it’s in a week and a half,” Tony confessed as quickly as he possibly could. Cue communal groaning. 

Electing to move onto more important things, Ro shut the tablet down and ordered, “Sam, Buck and Nat, meet me in the conference room in ten.”

*** *** ***

“Status,” Ro succinctly inquired as mission leader, having been deemed most qualified in Cap’s absence by the others given her tech given omniscience.

“Looks like they were in the middle of a move,” Sam replied as Ro took note of the image transmitted through his goggles, illustrating various boxes, full and piled high, throughout the compound.

“Have we figured out who _they_ even are?”

In response to Ro’s question, in front of the camera on Sam’s goggles, Natasha held a torn piece of paper with a clear letterhead of A.I.M. scrawled across the top. “See this, Ro?”

“No,” Ro groaned as she let her face fall into her hands, not even caring how the movement tousled her mic. 

“What is it?” Bucky’s evident concern was warranted given he was currently sniping outside the base and therefore couldn’t see the data himself. 

“AIM,” Ro elaborated, “long story short, it started as a privately funded think tank that focused on helping vets who lost limbs with this unstable regenerative injection called Extremis.” With a pause that included a heavy sigh, Ro continued, “But, Killian, AIM’s ringleader, weaponized the drug and went on a terroristic rampage, kidnapped Pepper and the president, and paid this wannabe actor in drugs to take all the blame.”

“And they weren’t resolved…?”

“Until two minutes ago,” Ro replied to Bucky, “I thought they were.”

“What did you say the group was called?”

“Steve!” Ro let out a purposefully loud groan; she knew Steve wouldn’t be able to keep his trap shut. “You said you wouldn’t butt in on comms!”

“We’re just-”

“Steve, we’ll discuss this later.”

“But, I have-”

“Do not make me disconnect you,” Ro demanded in a tone exhibiting authority that even surprised herself. Hell, it was enough to silence Cap. “This is way too- shit!”

“What?!” Nat, Bucky, Sam, and Steve’s queries could all be heard. 

“Buck, you have incoming.”

Immediately refocusing upon hearing Ro’s announcement, Bucky hunkered down, “from where?”

“Your six,” Ro replied, furiously typing on her computer to gain more detailed heat signatures of the pending targets. “40 yards out, all armed.”

“Buck!”

“Seriously, Steve?” Bucky’s stern chastise to his childhood friend was followed by nearly inaudible cursing. There would be a long line for berating Steve if he blew any part of this mission. Starting behind Ro. Then Bucky. Then no-nonsense Natasha.

“I muted Steve,” Ro concluded as she turned back toward the transmitted image from Bucky’s body cam, “do not engage!” As Ro meticulously typed in code on one screen, Ro saw Bucky disregarding her orders through the transmitted video on the adjacent. What is it with these nonagenarians and not listening. “Dammit, Sergeant, there are eight heavily armed assailants. You _will not_ win this one. _Do. Not. Engage._ ”

“What the hell do you expect me to do then?” 

Ro heavily debated whether or not the man could take on all eight attackers. While his skill set leaned toward the affirmative, Ro was too nervous to make the call sending him alone. However, Nat and Sam were too deep within the compound; they’d never make it there in time. Fortunately, Ro was already one step ahead. 

“We’re coming,” Nat demanded. 

“No time,” Ro succinctly replied as she continued her hasty typing. “Buck, they’re splitting. Be ready to take the four on your right.” With a faint cheer of joy as she hacked into her desired tech, Ro continued, “I’ve got the ones on your left.”

“How?” Bucky’s voice was barely audible as the armed assailants were a mere 15 yards away; however, his confidence in Ro despite the unfortunate situation was evident. 

“Sam,” Ro calmly spoke, “I’ve hijacked redwing.”

“I see that,” Sam’s disapproval was clear as day as Ro followed his gaze through the monitor, watching as his redwing attachment flew away against its owner’s command.

“Buck, 8 yards and slowing,” Ro spoke, probably softer than was warranted, “nod if you have visual.” The subtle tilt of Bucky’s body cam was adequate confirmation, “on my count. 3. 2. 1.” 

After a series of indistinguishable gunshots, there was a deafening silence. 

“Sergeant?” Ro desperately tried to refrain from letting her sheer fear escape into her voice. 

“Eight down,” Bucky grunted out. 

“Are you hit?”

“I’m fine.” Another grunt. Lies. 

“Sergeant,” Ro sternly commanded. Steve would be proud. “ _Are. You. Hit?_ ”

“Just nicked,” Buck spoke, making quite the effort in keeping his body cam facing away from his body. That action was definitely noted by Ro. “Where are you anyway?”

With a few more rapid bouts of typing, Ro deactivated the reflection panels of redwing, effectively turning off the invisibility factor of Sam’s attachment, revealing a hovering red bird shaped piece of tech to Bucky’s left. Bucky jumped slightly as the offending piece of tech revealed itself.

“Nat. Sam,” Ro ordered, “collect as much intel as possible then meet buck at the jet. Four minutes max.” 

“Copy,” Sam and Nat obediently confirmed, neither daring to vocalize how impressed they were with Ro’s ability to take command in a potentially dire situation. 

“Someone’s bossy,” Buck huffed out as he disassembled his rifle. Leave it to Buck to call Ro out. 

“Just make your way to the jet,” Ro spoke, genuinely glad no one could see her stifled smile. “I’m not detecting any more heat signatures.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Buck replied with a thorough level of entertainment, giving a mock salute that Ro assumed he forgot she could see given the body cam. 

“Keep up that sass and I’m taking Steve off mute,” Ro light heartedly retorted, unable to keep her smile out of her speech at this point. 

“Did he hear it all?”

“Yep,” Ro reluctantly replied ot Buck. 

After letting out a light sigh, Buck lowered his volume, “thanks for having my six.”

“Always.”

Sam’s feigned gagging was ignored by all. 

“Nat, status?”

“Fortunately, they packed everything for us,” Nat spoke with pleasant surprise in her voice, “we’re heading back now.”

“Can I have redwing back?” Sam whined. He was starting to sound more and more like Clint.

“Already on his way,” Ro replied, not even bothering to conceal her snort of amusement. 

“It’s a _he_?”

“Yes,” Sam sternly replied to Bucky’s evidently judgmental question, “ _he’s_ a he.”

“So, you’re flying around with a dude on your-”

“I beat you to that joke a while back,” Ro jovially interrupted, “good try, though.” Buck and Nat could both be heard letting out a light huff of a laugh. 

“Barnes!” Nat’s concern was prominent in her shout, “what the hell?”

“What?” And it’s times like this when Ro hated the restrictive vantage from the limited camera sight lines. 

“I thought you didn’t get shot?”

Ro felt her lungs restrict after a sharp inhale. So, Bucky was hit? “He said _just nicked_.”

“ _Just nicked_ , my ass,” Nat’s eye roll could be heard, “he’s still walking around with a bullet.”

“Dammit, Buck!” Ro didn’t even realize she had stood until she was nose to screen with the monitor reflecting the image from the camera on Sam’s goggles. “Sam!”

“On it,” Sam obediently replied as he adjusted his line of vision to focus on Bucky’s injury on the exterior aspect of his flesh shoulder. 

After letting out an impressive groan that managed to adequately express all of her current emotions that ranged from concern to frustration, Ro ordered, “Nat, get his ass here and I’ll dig it out.”

“Wait,” Buck hesitantly inquired, “ _you’re_ taking it out?”

With all the shit this man just put her through, Ro was already prepping her sass filled retort delivered in an impressively calm demeanor. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Ro smiled as she saw through Sam’s cam Bucky raise his hands in a placating manner; however, she didn’t miss the slight wince indicative of the pain the motion caused the super solider. But, the man still managed to deliver a smile that practically shouted how entertained he was with Ro’s persistent sass. 

“Good answer, man,” Sam joked. 

But, Ro has one more bit-o-sass up her sleeve. “Also, _you_ get to deal with Steve the entire trip back.”

“Don’t do it-”

“Dammit, Buck!” Everyone jumped as Steve’s booming voice reverberated through the earpieces. “Can you all hear me now?”

“He can now,” Ro softly replied not even caring to hide the wry smile on her face. “Have fun, Stevie.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell was that? You goin’ off bein’ your ol’ senseless danger attracting self, runnin’ right into the line of fire like you’re a damn immortal all while I’m over here stuck too damn far away from your sorry ass not able to do nothing but listen to shots ring out and you lyin’ ‘bout gettin’ shot and-”

Ro decided she didn’t have to torture herself with Steve’s incessantly voiced concerns and cut off the comms, electing to prepare the medical bay for the team’s arrival. 

Entering the elevator to make her way to the medical floor, Ro took a deep breath, willing her mind to not resort to unwarranted concern regarding her abilities. After all, she had removed a bullet from more of her team mates than not. GSWs must be some sort of pre requisite to become an Avenger. 

But, this is Bucky. _Her_ Bucky. So, naturally, she’s freaking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so hoping to have the next chapter posted by Friday! I have a decent outline for it; however, it's going to have some Ro/Buck feels so I gotta make sure I do their relationship justice.


	16. Off the Grid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has another battle with the 21st century.  
> Natasha is amused.  
> Bucky and Ro take a little vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latter half of this chapter contains mature content. The overall rating of this fic has been updated accordingly.

“Your hair has definitely seen better days, Rogers.”

“Thanks, _Romanoff_ ,” Steve sarcastically replied, removing the hand that had been perpetually skewing his short blond hair in every direction.

In all things considered, the man adjusted rather well to the new century; however, it doesn’t matter if it’’s WWII Germany or 21st century New York, Steve Rogers and paperwork did not mesh. Even the technological advancements hadn’t increased the ease and speed at which said paperwork could be completed. _It’s so much easier now_ , they said. _It’ll barely take you any time. Lies_ , Rogers thought. 

“You do realize you can have help on all that, right?”

Steve gave a hopeful glance toward Rowan upon hearing her offer but quickly neglected cashing in on the assistance. “You’ve got enough yourself since you had a recent mission.”

“All done.”

“How?” Appearing rather desperate as he let the tablet dramatically land on the table, Steve continued his inquiry, “that was just two days ago. _And_ you had an injury on the team,” Steve winced at his own reminder, flashing an apologetic glance toward Bucky who was next to Ro, reading one of her paperbacks he borrowed. “Which means you also had to fill out packet 24b.” 

24b was notoriously lengthy. You never want to have to fill out 24b. Don’t even get the man started on 87a - recording observations of foreign technology witnessed during a mission (“Captain Rogers, apologies, but simply stating _it appears to run on some form of electricity_ is not an adequate description.”).

“For starters, I have FRIDAY autofill redundant blanks; but, I also don’t chicken peck the keys,” Ro added, raising a judgmental eyebrow to Steve’s pointer-fingers-only means of typing. 

“But, the keys are so-”

Knocking the spine of the paperback against the table, Bucky effectively interrupted Steve. “If I can make it work faster than a snail’s pace,” the brunette super solider elaborated as he wiggled his metallic fingers, “then you can to.”

Ro cocked her head to the side, sensing there was something else floating behind Steve’s facade. Apparently, Nat saw it too (Bucky was too enthralled in his sci-fi novel) as the red head pressed, “you’re too busy mulling over something else.” A statement, not a question. 

“I need to have these submitted by tomorrow morning; but,” Steve paused, the tips of his ears reddening slightly, “Sharon and I have a date tonight. And I really don’t want to cancel.” Another pause. “Again.”

“ _Again?_ ”

Steve pursed his lips at Nat and Ro’s exclamations. Bucky gave up having undistracted reading time, dog earring his page and setting down the book as his childhood friend elaborated. “Last time was also paperwork.”

“Steven! You know I can help you with all that,” Ro chastised.

“Not legally speaking,” he mumbled as a retort.

“Has anyone caught the falsified signatures?” Ignoring the eyebrows of surprise from Nat and Buck, Ro continued after not receiving affirmation from Steve. “Then let me help. You need a vacation from paperwork.”

“If anyone needs a vacation here, it’s Buck.”

“True,” Ro agreed, turning to face the brunette. “When was your last work hiatus?”

“Wakanda,” Buck replied, smiling to himself as Ro and Steve’s expressions fell in response to his joke about cryo. “Okay, fine. Not funny. Um,” he paused, genuinely deep in thought, “probably two weeks before I was shipped out, when Stevie and I took that trip to...where was it?”

“Buck, that was a city away and we were only gone for a day,” Steve countered. 

“That’s not a vacation,” Nat concluded. 

“Nope,” Ro concurred. “I say a vacation is well deserved.”

“Understatement of the year,” Nat added to which Ro raised her nearly empty water glass in proclaimed agreement. 

“Where d’ya wanna go, Buck?” Steve had completely abandoned his paperwork, evidently electing to perform the duties of travel planner right then and there. 

“Uh.” For the first time in a long while, Bucky looked genuinely flustered as he glanced between the three sets of eyes currently burrowing into his very soul. Okay, so maybe he’s also a tad dramatic. “Well, Stevie, we always said we’d go to Ireland when we grew up. Guess it’s time to cash in that trip.”

“Yeah,” Steve’s smile had an aura of awe that Ro couldn’t help but smile at. “But, that’s where _I_ wanted to go. Where do _you_ wanna go?”

Shrugging, he gave a vague response, “anywhere?”

“My vote is for planning a big vacation. Maybe tour around Europe. I know you two have been all over there; but, this time getting to see the sites _not_ in a war zone. We can definitely swing by Ireland,” Ro was waving her arms, planning out the trip in her mind as she orated the slowly constructed plans. It was times like this that everyone could see Tony’s mannerisms in his daughter. Hence, Natasha decided to go prep a snack in the kitchen; this could be a while, she might as well make herself comfortable. 

“It’ll definitely be a trip for the books. But, that’ll take some planning if we want to do it right. And, we _will_ do it right. So, I’m thinking we do a mini vacation _stat_. Oh!”

Steve and Bucky both jumped in response to Ro’s sudden bout of excitement, waiting obediently for the explanation of said outburst. Nat just shook her head from her safe distance of the kitchen, tossing the occasional slice of the now peeled orange into her mouth. 

“I know a place,” Ro spoke, fortunately softer than before, as she shot a pointed look toward Steve who nodded in understanding. Bucky made a mental note to inquire about the silent conversation later. But, that’d have to wait since Ro’s gaze had shifted to him. “Pack for three nights. Meet me in the garage in 15.”

“Yes ma’am?” Bucky questioningly glanced between Ro and Steve, both of whom were innocently smiling in a scheming way that meant anything _but_ innocence. Not removing his curious expression, Bucky slipped out of his seat, snagged the paperback, and made his way to the elevator to head to his room and obediently pack a bag. 

“Sure, Ro. Whatever you say, doll,” Bucky mumbled to an empty elevator, smiling to himself.

*** *** ***

“You gonna fill me in on where I’m driving?” Bucky inquired as the caller ID photo of Steve popped up on the upper left corner of the windshield. Again. For the sixteenth time. They had been on the road for over three hours; but, still... _sixteen_. C’mon Stevie. “And, you gonna tell me why we keep ignoring his calls?”

“We are heading to your well deserved _vacation_ ,” Ro dismissively stated, flashing a smile to her left as she shut down her tablet. “You’ll know soon. And, the next time Steve calls, you can answer.”

“Why now?”

As if on cue, Steve’s headshot appeared in the left corner of the windshield. Ro reached over and pressed a button on the underside of the steering wheel to connect the call while Bucky looked on in curiosity mumbling something about _fancy cars of the future, still can’t fly, though_.

“Rowan,” Steve yelled, wasting no time with salutations. “Where is it?”

“Filled out, signed, and submitted,” Ro succinctly replied to which Steve responded with silence. “You’re welcome, Stevie. No more paperwork. Go get ready for your date. She’s under the impression you’ll be picking her up in 45 minutes. You have reservations at six under your name at that Italian place with your,” Ro paused to apply the appropriate air quotes, “ _fancy breadsticks_.”

“I owe you,” Steve mumbled through an evident smile. 

“Cover for us for the next few days and stop making me plan your dates!”

Through a slight laugh, Steve gave confirmation. “Copy that. You two going off the grid?”

“Yeah, as soon as you finally butt out of our date,” Ro light heartedly jested. 

“I see how it is,” Steve joked back. “Take care of him and don’t let him overwork that shoulder!”

“Of course,” Ro replied, flashing a genuine smile to Buck who was shaking his head. 

“Okay, punk, you’ve officially overstayed your welcome.”

“Jerk,” Steve huffed through a laugh, “see you two in a few days.”

“Bye!” Ro and Buck both groaned in feigned annoyance as Ro disconnected the line. 

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, boss?”

Bucky shook his head in astonishment. He should be used to the always present AI; however, it always surprised him how many places Ro thought to install the tech. 

“Take the next exit then the second right,” Ro instructed Buck before giving orders to FRIDAY. “Enact Get Away protocol, please.”

“On it, boss. The house will be ready in six minutes.”

“The house?” Bucky asked as he descended the ramp off the highway. “Like a safe house?”

“Nah, even better,” Ro replied, smirking to herself, “ _my_ house.” 

“ _Your_ house?”

“Yeah and that’d be great if you could keep in on the down low,” Ro elaborated as she pointed to the upcoming turn, “you are now one of only three people who are aware of it’s existence.”

“You, me, and...Tony?”

“Not Tony, Steve,” Ro corrected. “And he only knows about it because he needed to get off the grid for a while after a crazy multi-year-long game of world scale hide-and-seek with this crazy hot ex-assassin friend of his.”

“Is that so?”

Returning Bucky’s smirk with a smirk of her own, Ro elected to pass on confirmation, thus further boosting that ego of his, and pointed to her left. After three more turns, the duo was pulling to a large white wooden gate that obstructed any further view. Out of the tallest bush to the left popped a small camera; after a mild amount of encouragement from Ro, Bucky finally lowered the driver’s side window, allowing the camera to perform a bio scan on the vehicle’s occupants. 

After confirmation of voice recognition, facial recognition, and what Bucky swore was a goddamned hair follicle recognition, the gates parted, allowing Bucky to slowly advance the car around the circular route leading to the front door. For a Stark, the house was rather humble. In a color palette of white to light blue, the house was two stories with the lower level sporting a lengthy balcony. On either side of the house were tall trees that practically obstructed the view beyond; however, the telltale sounds of water lapping on a beach and crashing on a nearby reef could be heard. 

“It get’s better,” exiting the vehicle, Ro excitedly said as she slid her hand into Bucky’s left hand, slotting their fingers together, and pulled him up the four steps and into the front door without a key. “Fingerprint access,” Ro explained, “you’re in the system.”

Rowan took Bucky through the spacious living room to the back french doors that nearly blended in with the floor to ceiling windows, illustrating a seemingly endless expanse of white sand and blue water. “I bought this house as an escape; so, I was sure to not skimp on isolation.”

Stepping onto the back balcony, the two were met with two flights of stairs, one of which spanned down to the beach while the other led up to the wrap around porch of the upper level. “The property line spans a quarter mile along the coast in either direction. No worries about intruding neighbors or having to wear the hoodie and a ballcap charade when we go outside.”

Ro stepped to the side, feeling as though she was obstructing the view that was causing Bucky’s eyes to widen in sheer awe, “all ours for the next few days,”

“Doll, you shouldn’t have brought me here,” Bucky softly spoke as he advanced toward Ro, wrapping his arms around her waist and pausing when she gave a look of confusion. With a gentle laugh, Buck elaborated, “just you, me, and nothing...no one else. I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

Smiling at the thought, Ro nuzzled forward and pressed a kiss into Bucky’s chest before mumbling, “well, technically we can come here anytime we want. It can be our little escape.”

“I like that,” Bucky confessed. 

“Me too.”

Gently sliding his flesh hand along the back of Ro’s neck, Bucky leaned in for a chaste kiss. He could really get used to this. _All_ of this.

*** *** ***

“I thought you said we were off the grid?”

“I know,” Ro groaned out as she cupped her hand around her phone, struggling to make out the words on the screen in the glaring sun. “I tapped into Steve’s server, so anything I do will be traced back to him. I just needed to verify the forms I submitted for him didn’t cause any further problems.”

“Anything?”

“Maybe,” Ro reluctantly admitted as she scrolled down, cursing as she inadvertently littered the screen with sand. 

“Doll, your shoulders are lookin’ pretty red,” Buck stealthily released the ice he was holding in his metal hand and gently touched Ro’s shoulder, under pretense he was checking for a sunburn. 

With a yelp, Ro immediately dropped her phone in the sand (so much for caring about a handful of granules, it’s coated now) and launched herself into a standing position. “Dammit, Buck! That was cold!” Any scolding was taken as an utter joke as Ro was incessantly laughing. 

Something about the view before her utterly absolved any and all frustrations. Bucky was sprawled out on a Finding Nemo towel (courtesy of Ro, having become their inside joke), propped onto his left elbow, wearing only red and grey swim trunks with his hair pulled into a low bun, accented with Ro’s aviators. Oh, and a suggestive smirk. As always. 

“Like whatcha see?”

“That I do,” Ro shamelessly replied as she sat down at an angle on her now thoroughly ruffled towel, leaning across Bucky’s stomach as she dug her toes into the sand. Snagging her phone, Ro shot Bucky a pointed look as she shook the sand particles off the screen. Bucky’s signature smirk never ceased. Naturally. 

“Did they catch your forgery?”

“Nah,” Ro replied, “looks like they want more info about who knows what. I’ll check inside,” Ro closed her phone as she turned to face Bucky, still casually draped over the man. “How does pan seared mahi sound for dinner?”

“From the way you’re practically gnawing on your lip, I’m assuming you know of a good recipe?”

Feigning a punch to Bucky’s chest, Ro rolled her eyes, “yes, and you will be impressed.” Ro stood, cocking her eyebrow upon catching Bucky’s gaze lustfully lingering when she brushed the sand off the back of her swim suit. “Like whatcha see?”

“That’d be an understatement, ma’am,” Bucky retorted as he stood, gathering both towels and the small cooler of now empty drinks before giving Ro a quick peck on the lips. 

The two walked through the sand to the stairs, continuously hip checking each other like the mature adults they were until they reached the outdoor shower. “Alright,” Ro began as she stuck her feet under the running water, “I’m going to start on the food while you shower since I’m starving and I really need to sort out Steve’s submitted SHIELD file. As long as you don’t take _forever_ ,” Ro continued as Bucky rinsed off his feet, “I should be able to sneak my shower in before it’s done cooking.”

“ _I’m_ not the one known for their lengthy showers,” Buck jested as he walked into the back door, both having dried off. 

“That was one time!”

“50 minutes, though?” Shrugging as he walked up the stairs, Bucky jokingly added over his shoulder, having to shout due to being nearly out of earshot, “that’s gotta be a team record.”

Twenty five minutes later, Ro had successfully finished the mushroom rice pilaf, resolved the issue with Steve’s (her) file, and was nearly done with the fish. No she didn’t have problems focusing on the meal or work because she was too focused on the fact that Bucky was upstairs, in her house, in her shower, naked. Like, _without clothes_ naked.

Of course she didn’t have to remind herself how ridiculous her lustful thoughts were since their rooms at the tower are literally _right next door_ so she’s been this close to the man showering before. Of course she didn’t have to toss a few mushrooms that had burnt from her negligence caused by thoughts of beads of water dripping down _someone’s_ built chest. 

And, _of course_ she didn’t have to tell her body numerous times to cool her shit when the man walked into the kitchen, wet hair occasionally releasing water droplets onto his shoulders. Bare shoulders that lead to a _bare_ chest that-

“Uh, that pan’s smoking.”

“Oh, shit,” Ro mumbled as she snapped herself out of the trance that man must have put her in. For Christ’s sake, they’re a thing, they’re dating, they’re a couple; it’s not in the realm of impossibilities that she would be ogling him. Why does she still act like such a hormonal teenager at times? “Okay, all done.”

“Smells great,” Buck complimented as he reached to the top cabinet to snag two plates. 

“Yeah, I also love the smell of charred fish,” Ro sarcastically added, knowing she was being overly dramatic. Fortunately the fish wasn’t burnt; the only inadvertent crisp was from extra seasoning now permanently adhered to the pan. “Wait, you’re not supposed to be raising your arm that high yet!”

“But, you see,” Bucky began, ensuring to flash his signature smirk, “I’m a super soldier. So, I heal fast.”

“Super soldier or not,” Ro began as she set the serving utensil down as Bucky held two full plates, “Sergeant, need I remind you I dug a bullet out of your shoulder mere _days_ ago?”

“Speaking of, I probably shouldn’t have found your impromptu surgery as attractive as I did.” Bucky didn’t cease his smirk as he set the plates down on the kitchen table with Ro following behind with forks.

“Which part precisely? Do tell.” Ro continued as she fiercely jabbed at the food on her plate, “when I all but puked having to dig into your deltoid or when I got so squeamish I almost forgot to sew up the incision?” Having waved her fork around, losing half the bite during her query, Ro finally put the fish in her mouth. 

Evidently stifling a laugh by shoving a ridiculously large bite into his mouth, Bucky eventually gained enough composure to reply “I was going to say your ability to do what you’ve gotta when it comes down to it.” Shoving his food into a neat pile before taking another bite, Buck elaborated, “despite your evident discomfort, I still felt completely comfortable with you cutting me with a knife. And, that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

“You could have done it better than I did,” Ro added self deprecatingly. 

“Probably,” Buck jokingly agreed. 

“You weren’t supposed to agree with me!”

Bucky responded with a smirk behind another super soldier sized biteful of food. Damn super soldiers and their speed eating.

Over the next ten minutes, as the two continued eating dinner and taking amicable jabs at each other, Ro’s feet had managed to find Bucky’s lap, prompting his metallic hand to trace haphazard lines up and down her calves. The motion was rather soothing; however, as his touch occasionally wandered north of the back of her knees, Ro’s thoughts would wander as well. Evidently wandering enough to cause a dorky smile and light flush to form. 

Bucky made a hum of inquiry to which Ro attempted to snap herself from her lustful thoughts; however, that was easier said than done. Running a hand through his now barely damp hair, Bucky must have been blissfully ignorant in regards to how much that action piqued Ro’s desire. 

“How about you go take your shower while I clean up in here?” 

“Yeah,” Ro intelligibly replied. “Yeah, that’s good.” 

Because _that_ response makes sense. Good job in the communication department, Ro. Spinning on her heel as she stood from her seat, Ro didn’t even want to see Bucky’s reaction to her impressive linguistics.

*** *** ***

“Rowan?” Bucky ceased all movement to allow his enhanced hearing to listen for any movement in the house. It had been nearly an hour since Ro left the table, 30 minutes since he heard the shower cut off, and now she wasn’t answering to her name.

Bucky slowly walked up the steps, trying to ignore his heart beating faster out of sheer fear that the worst has happened. Someone must have followed them or tracked the signal from Ro’s phone usage earlier. And, something must have happened to Ro. Why wasn’t he more observant? He shouldn’t have let his guard down. He also should have snagged a weapon before advancing the stairs. 

Bucky gently nudged the bedroom door ajar after not hearing anything other than the melodic thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. There was Ro, lying on the bed, fast asleep with only her towel wrapped around her body. 

Letting out a deep breath he was unaware he was holding, Bucky mentally scolded himself for immediately thinking the worst. Then, he walked toward the bed, toward Ro, and tucked a wet strand of brown hair behind her ear. Her pillow would be drenched; but, oh well. She looked so peaceful. Bucky wouldn’t dare wake her. 

As he snagged the folded blanket at the foot of the bed to drape over Ro, Bucky heard her stir and immediately paused. 

“Mmm,” Ro mumbled as she rolled onto her left side, toward Bucky, “join me. But,” Ro yawned as she vaguely reached out, precariously groping until she found the hem of Bucky’s shorts. Since her eyes were closed, she missed the blush that motion elicited from Bucky. “But, with less of these.”

“You have more faith in my self control, doll,” Bucky replied with desire weighing heavy in his voice as he traced his fingers along Ro’s outstretched arm, eliciting a hum of pleasure from the woman sprawled on the bed. 

“Well,” Ro thoughtfully began as she stirred further, opening her eyes to see those piercing grey eyes smiling back at her. “I’ve come to a conclusion.”

With his right knee on the edge of the bed, Bucky swung his left leg over Rowan, planting a gentle kiss to her awaiting lips before rolling onto his left side, directly to her right as he inquired, “and what conclusion might that be?”

Ro shifted into Bucky’s new position, further nuzzling into his bare chest, before placing her left pointer over his lips. “That I love you.” Ro took a deep breath as she felt a pleasant release having finally vocalized the words. There was a subtle shift of Bucky’s lips, potentially a smile forming; however, Ro didn’t allow herself to get too hopeful. “But, I don’t want you to feel obligated to say anything back. I just wanted you to know.” 

Leaning forward, Ro removed her hand and pressed her lips to Bucky’s. Deepening the kiss almost immediately, Bucky slid his tongue against Ro’s bottom lip, instantaneously gaining access as he cupped his hand at the nape of her neck. Suddenly, his advances ceased entirely as he broke the kiss, leaving the two surprisingly already out of breath. 

With his forehead pressed to Ro’s, Bucky admitted, “I love you, too.”

Ro’s eye’s snapped open, not even knowing when they closed, and she was faced with pure awe reflected in Bucky’s expression. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had t-”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” Bucky interrupted with utter honesty. He paused, reaching back to rub the back of his neck in a rare appearance of nervousness before continuing. “And, I have for a while now...ask Stevie. I told him a bit ago.”

“Wait,” Ro interjected with a surprised tone that quickly morphed into light hearted jesting as she pressed her left palm into his bare chest, gently shoving Bucky onto his back and perching herself above him. Ro noted how the towel slipping down slightly from its position under her arms was noted by Bucky, eliciting a pointed swallow; however, she didn’t call him out on it. “Why wasn’t I the first person to know?”

“I didn’t want to push you away,” Bucky admitted as he relaxed his arms at his sides, in defeat. 

“Then, you’ve got another thing comin’...” Ro sensually mumbled as she cocked one eyebrow up before leaning downward, aligning her lips against the shell of Bucky’s right ear. “...if you think something like _that_...” Ro paused every so slightly as she hiked her left leg up, dislodging the towel from her thigh. “...would push me away...” 

Bucky’s breath hitched as the tips of his fingers gradually traced upward on Ro’s now exposed thigh. Feeling the man’s desire, Ro grazed her lips down from his ear, along his neck until she reached his collarbone, and pressed an open mouthed kiss. The positive reaction she managed to elicit from Bucky was both felt and heard. Through a drawn out sinful moan, Bucky’s hand, which had ventured to the back of her upper thigh, firmly squeezed. 

Ro smiled into the crook of his neck as she continued, “...‘cause, Sergeant…” Ro ran her right hand from the hem of Bucky’s pants up his bare torso, eventually reaching the scarred junction of metal and flesh as she continued her lustful taunt. “...I’m kinda planning on stickin’ around.” 

“Good,” Bucky practically moaned out before seeking out Ro’s lips, capturing them in a heated kiss that the man had evidently felt deprived of throughout Ro’s antics. Pausing, yet barely shifting his mouth from hers, Bucky mumbled against Ro’s lips, “‘cause I don’t just like havin’ you around. I _love_ having you around.”

Ro paused and shifted her face back to ensure Bucky could be fully graced with her prime are-you-kidding-me look. “Buck, that was cheesy.”

“I know,” he shamelessly replied through a proud smile, “but, it’s okay; because, I love you.”

Smiling, Ro leaned back in for a soft kiss. “Sound logic,” she sarcastically said before deepening the kiss, pausing only to reply, “I love you, too.”

Letting her hand wander down Bucky’s chest and stomach, Ro paused upon reaching fabric, softening the kiss as she subtly slipped two fingers under the elastic waistband. Giving a light, experimental tug, Ro took in every change in Bucky’s reaction. His slight change in breath, almost anticipatory. His tightening grip of his right hand which had somehow managed to further hike up the towel, landing on her bare hip. His hardening length that was now pressing against Ro’s lower abdomen, telling her just how much he desired her. 

Pausing, waiting for Bucky to make the next move, Ro slowly opened her eyes. If his lust-filled blown pupils staring back at her, accompanied by a sinful smile, wasn’t enough of an affirmation, Bucky’s one syllable, somehow sensually uttered as both a plea and demand, was. 

“Please.”

Before Ro could even process either’s movements, Bucky’s lips were on hers as hands deftly removed their remaining articles of clothing. Ro placed her hands on either side of Bucky’s head, desperately trying to maintain contact as Bucky kicked his shorts and boxers off his feet. The sudden spray of cold air followed by a soft thud against the far wall told Ro that he had quite literally thrown the towel across the room. 

Prior to being able to contemplate the newfound nakedness, Bucky flipped the two over with what could only be described as super soldier strength. Landing on her back, Ro intertwined her fingers in Bucky’s hair, continuing with the bruising kiss as she wrapped her legs around his waist, effectively pulling his body flush with hers. 

“Oh, Buck.”

Ro’s voice sounded foreign to herself, coming out entirely more sinful than she had imagined possible. However, she had a valid reason. Ro’s mind just about short circuited, immediately bombarded with sensory overload as the sudden vastness of skin to skin contact was felt. 

“You feel…” From Bucky’s moan that completed the sentence and gentle rock of his hips, nearly aligning their bodies perfectly, Ro deduced he was under the same rapturous elation. 

Ro tightened her grip on both the back of Bucky’s neck and his side, needing to ground herself from the intense euphoria she already experienced. Hell, they had barely even started and she was already on cloud nine. This man, the man that she loved, drove her wild. So wild that she felt as if she could orgasm solely from rolling around in the sheets, naked together.

With a devilish smile from lust driven thoughts in her mind, Ro drove her hips forward in response to Bucky’s movement before tugging his hair, trying to elicit another sinful moan from the man before her. In feigned retaliation, Bucky dipped his head away from the kiss, finding Ro’s pulse point with his lips and travelling slightly lower until he reached her clavicle, gently taunting the protrusion with his teeth.

Ro could feel herself and her inhibitions unwinding. With Bucky, she couldn’t hold back. Hell, she didn’t _want_ to hold back with him.

“You sure?”

“With you,” Bucky smiled sinfully yet somehow conveyed sincerity, “always.”

That pleasurable high Ro initially felt would return again and again that night...tenfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, updates will be a little slower (I know, sad day) because family is in town for a bit. 
> 
> Second, this is the closest thing to smut I have ever written and posted. Oh my word, I hope I did it justice...


	17. A New Beginning

“Ro’s gone.”

“What do you mean _Ro’s gone_? FRIDAY, why wasn’t I notified of this?!”

“Sir, I am not programmed to update on voluntary departures,” the AI defended somberly.

“Something’s telling me she _didn’t_ leave voluntarily,” Steve cryptically added.

*** *** ***

**For the continuation of the adventures of Ro and Bucky, see Part II ([The Supernova](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11239545/chapters/25119366)).**


End file.
